When I Look At You
by UndergroundValentine
Summary: Adam's a theater dweeb, Tommy's a Chicago hot rod. Why are the polar opposites always ones to attract one another? Warning! Mature read: sexual crude humor, explicit language, violence, gay sex/innuendo
1. For Here I Am Sitting in a Tin Can

So, this is yet another collab I'm working on with, though it's not Hiei this time. I'm working on this fiction with the ever lovely RichKat96 on DeviantART, and pretty much whatever fanfiction goes on dA comes here (and to Archive :3). But, it's present day, Adam and Tommy are high school students. Adam's the theatre geek no one really likes and Tommy's the hot shot from Chicago. Enjoy~

I have Adam's POV and the odd chapters, she has Tommy's POV and the even chapters.

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**Chapter One: For here I am sitting in a tin can**

**Adam's POV**

"…if you'll turn to page three hundred and ninety-seven of your textbooks, we will begin discussing today's lesson on the works of Edgar Allen Poe…"

I hated English. The language was fine. The, culture of people, I guess you could say, was pretty fucking rad (I had a bit of a soft spot for Europe in general, you know). But I hated the class; the study of English. It made no sense to me. While the stores and concepts of Edgar Allen Poe' and _Romeo and Juliet_ were nice, I had no real interest in them. Well, _Romeo and Juliet_ was a different story, considering that was theatre and I was a theatre geek, to put it lightly. Like, a _huge_ theatre geek.

But I hated English. The class would often bore me to tears. Learning "advanced" grammar and the reasons why Odysseus was basically an ass to his crewmates, and for the love of God (well, not really, I'm not religious) would someone please explain to me the importance to read poetry about houses? Whatever. It didn't exactly help that my teacher had the most monotone voice on the face of the planet, either. But beggars can't be choosers, eh?

Fortunately, it was really the only class I couldn't handle. I had Varsity choir in the morning, followed by Advanced Algebra. Lunch, English, and my Theatre class to follow and finish the day. Yeah, four classes a day, it was pretty freaking nice, to be honest. Four eighty-minute periods with a forty minute lunch, from ten to nine until three thirty. Not too shabby, in my opinion. It was just this damned English class made it a little less than bearable.

Ugh. Whatever.

I pulled out a spiral notebook from the inside of my binder, being as quiet as possible while Mr. Monotone continued to drone on and on and on. I pulled a pen from the side pouch of my bag, flipping open to a clean page. No one paid mind to me. They were either asleep, doodling, texting, or, if they were actually smart, they were paying attention to the lesson. I pressed my hand to my cheek, leaning on my elbow as I stared down at the page for a long moment.

I pressed the tip of the pen to the page, scrawling out words. Words became lines, and lines became lyrics. I wasn't really thinking about any of it, only the fact that I was incredibly bored and had nothing better to do. Blue swirled across the page, and while I personally hated my handwriting, everyone else (and by that, I mean my teachers) seemed to find it "elegant". How they saw elegance in my handwriting, I will never know.

I glanced up at the clock. We were only half an hour into the lesson. Awesome. Still about another hour of this before I'd be free and to one of my favorite classes of the day. The idea of it kind of depressed me, having to sit through a subject I already knew just about everything on, and yet I couldn't skip. If my parents found out that I skipped, I'd be shot for certain. Okay, maybe not, but they certainly wouldn't be happy with me. As it was, they weren't pleased about the occasional phone call of my falling asleep in this class. Whatever. My younger brother, Neil, would fall asleep in his classes all the time, and they didn't give him crap about it.

I turned to another page in my journal when the door open and clicked close. Mr. Monotone looked up to the back of the room, as did the rest of the class, but I didn't. I didn't care. It was probably some sort of teacher aid or student worker from the office bring in a note. I sat on the outside row, and I kept my head down, but when I glanced to my left and saw a skinny pair of legs covered with black jeans and ratty converse I looked up. The kid was wearing a dark red tank top with a long sleeved, fish net shirt over it. I could see the chains and clasps of various necklaces around his neck. The back of the head was kinda shaved, and it sort of melted into thick blond hair that looked as if it was brushed over one eye. The shaved half was a light brown color, like a golden brown color.

There were whispers between the new student and Mr. Monotone, and eventually he looked towards the class to speak. "Class, this is Thomas Joe Ratliff. Please treat him with respect." His voice lowered and he looked in my direction. "Alright, son, you can sit over there, the seat in front of Adam. Lambert, raise your hand." He raised his voice to get my attention. I raised an eyebrow and half-waved at the kid. I hadn't really paid attention, but when I got a look of his face, I had to look away to keep from staring.

His skin was pale, porcelain like, you know? Not deathly. And even with his blond hair flipped over part of his face, he didn't look like an emo kid. There was a thin smudging of liner around his dark brown eyes. And even for a man, he had lips that reminded me of Twiggy (and if you don't know who that is, then I'm ashamed of you). He sat down in the desk in front of me, keeping his head low as he set his bag down by his feet, pulling out his binder and a journal.

There was a gnawing at my stomach to talk to him, but I knew I couldn't in the middle of class. Not only would I probably be given a detention, but this kid looked like he didn't want to talk to anyone. I didn't blame him. I scratched the back of my head, running my fingers through my newly dyed black hair. I was sick of my natural strawberry blond, and so I'd asked my family if I could dye it. Fortunately, they said I could, and they didn't even say anything when I came home with black hair (and eyebrows. I'm not dumb) the next day. But my braces were something I'd have to deal with for at least another six months. Ugh.

I scribbled across the page, trying desperately to kill time and think of lyrics. Yeah, I liked writing. I knew of a lot of people who didn't, and in all honesty, they were idiots not to like it. Writing was such a relaxing way to vent and express oneself. And when I glanced up at the board and over Mr. Ratliff's shoulder, I could see clearly that he thought the same thing. I couldn't make out what he was writing, but judging by the spacing it was lyrics, or maybe poetry. There were letters scrawled above certain words. Chords with lyrics. He composed? Or maybe he played and memorized everything enough to copy it down without reference.

I sighed softly, returning to my page of scribbles and doodles. It wasn't anything special though. In the corner, I was half-consciously drawing the Eye of Horus. I was huge into Egypt and the Gods, the universe, the whole shebang. I felt more connected to it than religion. Not that I was against religion or God, because I wasn't. I just… It was hard to explain, really. I glanced up at the clock again. Forty more minutes. Shit.

I shifted my gaze, staring at the back of Thomas Joe Ratliff's head. I wondered if he liked being called Thomas or Tommy. Or what about Tom? If it was Tommy, was it just Tommy or Tommy Joe? I looked away again. Why was I so concerned about how he wanted to be called? I shouldn't have been concerned with his name or how he looked or the fact that I just wanted to reach up and run my fingers through those golden and brown locks—

Whoa, snap out of it, Adam.

I sighed, rubbing my eyes and staring down at my paper again. I couldn't think straight. Not that I'd written anything remarkable prior to Mr. Thomas Joe Ratliff entering the classroom and sitting down in front of me, but at least I had an idea. And now I had nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was as if my brain decided to shut off. I twirled a lock of my hair beside my left ear, staring at the doodles and random scribbles from other famous songs. I gnawed on my bottom lip.

Go ahead, take another look up at him.

And I did. I lifted my gaze to the back of his head again, imagining his face. Beautiful pale skin, gorgeous brown eyes. Yeah, I'm gay, so what? It wasn't like I was shouting it to the world though. It was something I kept to myself more than anything. I mean, my family knew about it, but no one else did. But I had to wonder… Was Mr. Ratliff…? Doubtful. He didn't seem like the type of guy to swing with people like me. But I could be wrong.


	2. I Am Not Afraid to Keep On Living

**Chapter Two: I Am Not Afraid To Keep On Living****  
****Tommy's POV**

_Fuck you, mom and dad, fuck you._

Being a new kid isn't the most delightful thing in the world. You get looked over like some freak from another planet, and people feel the need to whisper to the person next to them, whether they're friends or random people, even though they know that you can hear them talking shit about you. They look at you from the moment they hear the door click open to the time you take a seat, and some people that are just freaks and have no idea what rudeness is, keep staring at you until you finally look up at them with a disgusted look on your face. I, myself, have never experienced such humiliation. I was usually one of the few people who kept looking at them until they felt uncomfortable.

I never expected I'd be that new kid in the situation.

I stood outside the door to the classroom for what seemed like a lifetime after being at the office and picking up a new schedule and such. My earphones were stuck deep into my ears, blasting Slipknot. I wasn't even concentrating on the music. It was just there as a distraction. What song was I even listening to? I couldn't remember. I took a deep breath and pulled my sunglasses and ear buds out of my ears before shoving them into my bag. I pulled out my scratched up iPod for a second to turn off the music, then shoved it back into the bag. I took another deep breath before putting my hand on the door handle. _What's the worst that could happen? You're too cool to get beaten up, and nobody's going to spit a spitball out at you._

Who asked you, conciseness?

I don't remember putting weight onto my hand, but suddenly the handle clicked and I was forced to open the door. Remember when I talked about having all eyes on you? Yeah. I was experiencing it. I cursed under my breath and put each foot in front of the other, walking past a couple kids on the way to the teachers desk. I didn't look at any of the kids I passed, but noticed one guy with midnight black hair. It was unnaturally beautiful. The rest of the kids had dull browns and a couple blonds here and there, but this kids hair stood out. Wow. I'd need to ask him later if it was natural or dyed.

The teachers eyes were half closed, and he, too, had a head full of hair that was dull brown. I ran a hand through my bleached bangs as I gave him the slip I needed to get signed by every teacher. He gave me a double take before taking the other paper in my hand of my schedule and looking it over a moment before shoving it back into my hand. "What's your name, son?" he asked me in a low, monotone voice.

"Thomas Joe. Thomas Joe Ratliff. But Tommy's—" I didn't get to finish before he put a hand around my shoulder and turned me towards the class. They're eyes were all wide as they stared at me, and I awkwardly pulled on my tank top. The fish net holes were big enough for me to stick a fingernail through and stretch it off my sweaty body a tiny bit. "Class, this is Thomas Joe Ratliff. Please treat him with respect." I smiled as awkwardly as I had pulled on my shirt. "Alright, son, you can sit over there, the seat in front of Adam. Lambert, raise your hand." I looked over the room before a shy hand rose up slightly with a pen in his hand. It was the guy with the unnaturally black hair. His nails were painted black, like mine, but his weren't chipped of polish like mine. He had a journal in front of him, with tons of scribbles on it. He wrote? Oh wait. I suddenly noticed the glasses on his freckled face, and could see a glint of shine in his teeth. Braces. He looks like a geek... They're probably just notes from the class.

I sighed softly and adjusted my bag on my shoulder before shuffling over to the seat next to Adam. Prior to sitting down, I saw him roll his eyes and bend back down over his journal. I sat down and made a face to myself. _Who_ is _this kid? Doesn't he know who I am? Oh...wait..._ I heard the teacher go back to a lesson on Edgar Allan Poe. The name rang a bell in my head, but I knew almost nothing about him or his works. Only that he was some old author dude. I never found English, the subject, very interesting.. I saw no point in it.

I leaned down and took out my own journal and a pen, flipping to the page where I'd stopped writing lyrics the day before. I looked quickly over my shoulder at the Adam kid, still scrawling in his journal. I smirked and turned back to my notebook, thinking how big of a loser this kid was. _Why are you judging him? You don't even know him yet. Maybe he_ is _writing his own lyrics like you are._ Why was my conciseness suddenly so worried about this kid?

Oh ew. No. Nuh uh. I was _not_ gay. No way, no how. I had nothing against them, I just wasn't one myself. But Adam sure looked like one. But I didn't know that for sure, nor did I really want to know.

After about another forty minutes of drowning out the teachers monotone voice and scribbling more words and notes into my notebook, all the kids rose and left the room, including myself. I swung my bag around my shoulder and followed them outside into a stampede. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Adam eying me. Wow. That's the second time I've said wow about this kid. His eyes were ocean blue, and the black liner smudged around his eyes made them stand out even more. I kept walking, though, and was soon greeted by what looked like a couple cheerleaders. They had short shorts on and tight tank tops, although it wasn't even that hot outside. I smirked to myself as they crowded around me and pulled me along with them, asking me all types of questions, varying from "Are you new here? I've never seen you here before," to "Do you work out? Your biceps are really hard." Hey, I was small, but I still had muscles.

The girls and tons of other people crowded around me during the lunch period, complimenting me and, again, asking questions. Damn, these people sure had mouths. There were a few cute girls that I wouldn't mind sleeping with.

But my mind was overthrown with the sight of Adam Lambert sitting alone at a lunch table.


	3. Some Things You Just Don't Question

**Chapter Three: Some things you just don't question**

**(Adam's POV)**

Who was I kidding? Sure, Thomas looked really, really pretty… But he was probably some popular skater kid from some uptown rich neighborhood. I glanced at him, watching him leave when he saw me looking, and he too looked. He blinked once before looking away and following the crowd out the door. My heart was beating a little harder in my chest. His eyes… Such a beautiful, beautiful chocolaty brown. Smudged delicately with liner— like I'd done my own eyes this morning.

I gathered my belongings, shoving them into my messenger bag (shut up, I preferred this over backpacks). I stood from my desk, pulling the strap over my head and letting it rest on my shoulder. I nodded to the teacher before walking out of the classroom. Lunch had started, and people were bustling up and down hallways. I turned to my right, seeing Thomas swarmed by a crowd of people, and they were walking. I looked away, pulling my iPod out of my bag and unwrapping my headphones, shoving them deep into my ears and blasting something by Bowie, I couldn't remember what.

I strolled down the hallway, making sure not to run into anyone. Usually, the freshman and sophomore were the ones trying to avoid people like me, a senior. However, I was exactly classified as a "popular" or "cool" kid. Braces and glasses kind of did that to you, and so did theatre, but whatever. I was okay with who I was. I may have been a nerdy theatre kid who performed in every play, but at least I wasn't a _fat_ nerdy theatre kid. That would have just made me depressed.

I slipped into the cafeteria, walking towards the back of an ever decreasing line. I punched in my number to pay for my food, before following a good twenty other students through the kitchen. Pizzas, hamburger, salads, burritos, all kinds of options. I grabbed a chicken Caesar salad off a stack, and a small bottle of orange juice. I tried to stay as healthy as possible, even though foods like pizza and chocolate were all time favorites of mine.

I walked out to the cafeteria again, deciding that I didn't really favor eating inside today. I headed out, sitting at an outdoor lunch table. No one bothered me; in fact, they walked on as if I didn't exist. To them, this didn't bother me. But I wouldn't deny my loneliness. Sure, I had a few acquaintances in theatre, but none of them were friends— none of them were the people I would spend weekends hanging out with or several days over summer vacation.

I pulled my iPod out of my pocket, setting it on the surface of the table and changing the song. Hmm, not bad, not bad— _I Knew I Loved You_ by Savage Garden. I loved this band, especially the lead singer, Darren Hayes. He's fucking beautiful. I smiled to myself as I popped the plastic lid of the box holding my lunch. I stabbed the salad with my fork, taking a small bite and chewing thoroughly. Why am I describing how I eat my food? God, I'm such a fucking idiot sometimes.

I swallowed the bite, before digging through my bag and pulling out a worn copy of _Wicked_, one of my all time favorite books and plays. I leafed through the pages, finding where I'd last left off… But I didn't get very far into reading, as a shadow crossed into the line of light that I had. I looked up through my veil of black bangs, up towards a silhouetted figure. The shadow sat down and I was able to see— blond hair, gorgeous brown eyes… Thomas.

I fought the urge to choke on my tongue. I plucked my headphones from my ears. Well, I didn't want to be rude, but what kind of hot shot wanted to been seen with someone like me? He didn't say anything for a moment, so I took another bite of my salad, cautious to not get anything stuck in my braces. Oh, jeez, that would be so embarrassing. Trying to talk when you've got a piece of lettuce stuck in metal? It's like a little reminder of how much of a nerd I really am. Ugh.

"Hi." He said, his voice soft. He had a beautiful voice; cheeky, feminine almost. Maybe that was my imagination, I wasn't quite sure. I swallowed my bite, running my tongue over my braces gently, making sure that I had nothing stuck in them. Why was I so concerned?

"Hi." I said back, setting my fork down and closing my book. His hands were in his lap and he looked shy. He probably was. Why was he talking to me though? I was nobody. Just another geek in the back of the classroom who read _Wicked _ and _Romeo And Juliet_ way too many times. Okay, Shakespeare, not so much, but I still read it quite often.

"I'm Tommy." He said. Aah, so he preferred Tommy over Thomas? Good to know, good to know. Why good to know? Well, in the event that I need to ask him something related to homework, or if I see him in the hallway… I know to call him Tommy instead of Thomas.

Bullshit.

"Adam." I said, extending a hand. He took it, shaking once before we let go. His hands were firm, calloused in the fingers. I wondered if he played an instrument. He sure as hell looked as if he could. He kept his hands on the table, folded neatly. His nails were painted with black nail polish, but it was chipped. I glanced at mine for a moment, seeing the neat and precise painting, fresh. I did it last night.

"So…" He trailed off, unsure of what to say. I smirked a little, grabbing my fork and playing with my food.

"Where are you from?" I asked him, taking another small bite before setting my fork back down and snatching my orange juice. I unscrewed the lid and swallowed a drink, washing down my bite of chicken and salad. He licked his lips a little (which I noticed were really plump for a guy), tightening his hands together as if he was nervous. Maybe he was just super shy. Or uncomfortable. That was a possibility too.

"Chicago." He muttered. Yeah, he was probably uncomfortable. New kid in school in a completely different city. I wondered for a moment what he was like at his old school. What kind of friends he had, if he had a girlfriend… Okay, Adam, don't depress yourself with that thought. But at the same time don't wonder what he likes. Just because he's pretty doesn't mean he's like you. Oh, shut up!

"Cool." I had no better word. I took another bite to occupy myself. Tommy fidgeted with his hands a little more, looking unsure of what to say. I felt kind of bad for him. He opened his mouth a little, and I glanced up at him, caching his eye. He didn't look away; he stared right back at me for a long moment, before I eventually tore my gaze away, heat spreading across my face. Fuck…

"So, um… What were you writing? Earlier in class?" His voice was barely above a whisper. I looked up at him again, my heart pounding frantically. Don't tell him, don't tell him. If you tell him you write lyrics, he's gonna want to know, and then he's gonna see that everything you write about has to do with guys and he's gonna think you're a freak and never talk to you again.

"N-nothing." I lied, but it felt wrong. I watched his lip curve down in a frown. He looked disappointed. Don't be sad, Tommy…

"Oh." He said simply. It was silent between us for a long moment. I took another bite of my salad, but my appetite had been lost. Tommy looked over at me before looking down, his eyes catching the bright, emerald green cover of _Wicked_. He nodded to it in a silent request. I moved the book towards him, and he picked it up, looking at the back cover. An intrigued smile graced the corner of his lips, pulling up slightly. Absent mindedly, I trailed my tongue along the inside of my lower lip, not quite moistening them.

"Is it good?" He asked after a moment, and I smiled.

"Yeah." He ran his fingers down the spine, and for a moment I imagined that it was not the spine of a book, but skin that he was touching… Stop it.

"Take it you've read it often?" He showed the worn binding to me, and my face flushed a little.

"Yeah."

"Is that all you say?" He smirked at me and I flushed a redder shade. I pushed my glasses up higher on my nose, hoping that my bangs were hiding the embarrassment in my eyes. He chuckled a little, probably at my cherry-tomato face, and I couldn't help it. I smiled, laughing with him. For a moment I didn't care that I was a theatre dweeb with glasses and braces. For a moment, I was laughing with someone who I was hoping would be my friend.

"I guess." I said after a moment, taking a drink of my orange juice. Tommy folded his hands back together on the table, leaning forward a little bit. I eyed him as I set my juice down. I opened my mouth to speak when a voice cut me off.

"Yo, Tommy." I watched him turn towards a dark skinned senior with dreadlocks. He was in our English class, his name was Longineu Parsons, but everyone called him LP. He was wearing black cargo shorts and black hiking boots, a grey tank top with a black skull on the front. He was laid back for being one of the more popular kids in school. He was also in band— played the drums. I'd only heard him play the school's music, but I'd heard in the halls that he was amazing behind the drums, when he played his own music.

"I want'cha to meet someone." Longineu said , tugging on Tommy's arm. Tommy stood, flashing me an apologetic smile as he was pulled away from the table. Longineu called out for someone named Monte, but I didn't catch the face. I sighed sadly, staring down at my half-eaten salad and my empty orange juice. I grabbed my book and shoved it into my bag, snatching my iPod and my trash. I tossed the rest of my food, plugging my ears with my headphones and heading off into the direction of my next class.

Who was I kidding? Tommy was accepted as being popular. I wasn't and never would be. He had no reason to hang around a loser like me.


	4. Boys Will Be Boys

**Chapter Four: Boys Will Be Boys****  
****Tommy's POV**

I walked away from Adam, a frown pulling at the edges of my mouth...mentally, anyway. I was never that shy, uncomfortable kid with anyone. It was almost like a secret identity. In fact, I'd never shown that side to anyone, and now, suddenly, I'm showing it to this kid I just met. There was something about him that just made you feel like you could be yourself around him, whether it was the adorable, geeky smile or the gorgeous black hair, flowing over half of his face, I wasn't sure. _Tommy, you dipshit, you aren't gay. You're_maybe _bisexual, even if not that sure of it, but you like_pussy, _not_cock.

You think I don't know that? Just shut the hell up.

When I'd picked up the worn copy of _Wicked_that was laying next to Adams salad - with his permission, of course. Come on, I'm not _that_rude- it was as if I could feel his hands on it. All the times he'd picked it up and held it in his own hands. I was so tempted to just reach my hands across the table and take Adams in mine, and stay there for the longest time possible. I licked my lips a little, moistening them. They were so fucking dry. I pushed my bangs aside, behind my ear, and opened the book warily, conscious of not ripping the delicate and already torn up book. It was clear where the black-haired beauty had stopped at, or even returned to. The pages were either torn, folded, or had dried up tears on them. I couldn't imagine Adam crying.

I stopped at a particularly worn out page, ready to read it when I heard a familiar voice. Longineu came over to me, his dreds bouncing all over the place. He gave a light nod to Adam, but I don't think he saw it. I turned to him, waiting for him to say something. "I want chy'a to meet someone." I let out a light sigh, upset that I had to leave Adam already. We picked up some light conversation, and now it was over. Just like that. I softly put the book back next to him, smiling apologetically to Adam as I was dragged along back to my table. Longineu yelled loudly for someone named Monte to come over. A guy with a slight mohawk turned around, some sort of food stuffed in his mouth. He swallowed and let out a deep laugh before he came over to us and patted my shoulder.

"So you're the famous new Tommy everybody's talking about. Nice hair, kid." He ruffled my hair around my head, making a mess out of it. I chuckled, running a hand through my hair to flatten it back down, before we did the oh-so-famous handshake and back pat. I liked him, but I wanted to just get over with talking to him so I could go back over to Adam. I stole a little glance back to the table while Monte kept talking to LP, only to see an empty, used table, and a sad Adam walking out of the lunch room with earphones in his ears. I thought I saw a tear slipping down his cheek, but it was so far away it was impossible to tell. "Shit..." I muttered to myself. Monte gave me a confused look, and I just shook my head, as in saying "Don't worry about it."

I thought about the way that Adam moved, the way his hands moved so delicately. The way he wrote, the way his fingers curled around the pen. The way that his laugh made shivers run down my back. Could he really be... gay? My mind wondered back to a night when I still lived in Chicago, that I was so fucking drunk at the party that night, I'll never forget it. Even if I did wake up with a huge bitching headache and I couldn't remember shit. But it all became clear when the gayest kid in school came up to me the next day...

_My clothes were all over the floor, my shirt torn a bit on the sides. Eric was breathing heavy, and I could smell the alcohol in his breath. I smirked. As if I wasn't just as bad that night. Probably even worse. We were looking at each others faces, exchanging light kisses here and there. He leaned his neck to the side and I licked it, my tongue just barely trailing over his vein. "God, you're so beautiful," he whispered in my ear, sending shivers and trembles down my back. I chuckled, my small frame hovering over his. "I know." A grin spread across my face as I trailed my lips down his chest to his newly pierced nipple. My lips traced around it before biting down on it, making the boy scream out in ecstasy.___

_My hands ran down and across the inside of his thigh, massaging his semi hard on through his jeans. "Fuck, you're big..." I mumbled against his chest, my head spinning in circles from the alcohol. My fingers fumbled around his zipper and button, shoving his jeans down his legs along with his boxers. Erics hand grabbed onto my hair, pulling tightly. I let out my own scream, and he pulled me up to him and brought his lips to mine, meshing them together into a hot mess. Our tongues fought with each other for dominance. I finally won over his weak tongue, and smirked to myself. I slipped back down to his now full hard on. My head bent over him and-_

"Tommy? Man, you alive in there?" Monte lightly knocked on my head, my head whipping around back towards the older male. "We're having a party tomorrow night. Ya know, tons of beer and hot chicks. You up for it?" I blinked a few times before I realized he was talking to me. I shrugged, "I'll get back to you on that." I laughed without humor and Longineu dragged me along some more, meeting some other people that weren't important to me anymore. I was thinking about that fucking gay night. Thank the fucking lord that he never told anyone, that Eric kid. Like I said, I'll never forget it. At least I topped.

But my mind was overthrown with Adam again, how disappointed he'd looked when I was dragged away form him, the crumpled look on his face after I, too, had gotten upset that he wasn't writing lyrics in English.

Lunch eventually ended, and I'd realized I hadn't eaten anything. Eh, what the fuck ever. I wasn't that hungry anyway. I stumbled out of lunch room, still surrounded- all though much smaller than before- by a crowd around me, some of the girls rubbing my arms again. Touchy feely, much, god dammit? A small headache was forming near my temples from the loud voices and questions around me. I finally excused myself when I had to go to the next class, what _was_my next class? I pulled the schedule out of my messenger bag and read below English... Fuck. History. Even worse than English.

I pushed the doors open to see a single student inside the room: Adam Lambert. I smiled to myself and swerved around the desks to go sit next to him and talk to him again, but people swarmed into the classroom and gathered around me again. Shit! Go away, you crazy stalkers! I turned my gaze to Adam before some chick turned my head back around towards her. He was looking at me, pain in his beautiful, beautiful blue eyes.


	5. You Never Knew Me At All, But I See You

**Chapter Five: You never knew me at all, but I see you**

**Adam's POV**

I shuffled towards my next class of the day, History. My music was probably a little too loud for my ears, but I didn't care. The only thing— well, person, actually— on my mind was Tommy. I couldn't get… I couldn't let myself get attached to him because I knew the way the world worked. Something would come up. He'd turn out to be straight. He'd have a girlfriend. He'd be Christian and totally against that (though I really doubted that, actually, just by the way he dressed and looked. But, unfortunately, I've been wrong before). But maybe there was hope…

Don't think about it, Adam. Just don't.

I sighed, quite miserably. I mean, I was upset because I was depressing myself, but I was happy. I was happy because he actually came up to _me _and sat _with me_. He talked to me. He was a hot shot from Chicago (I could only assume since everyone swarmed him at any chance they could manage). And I was just… me. A theatre kid with glances and braces who lived in Los Angeles with his parents and younger brother. And yeah, I'm gay. But no one knows that. For many good reasons.

I'd stalked into the classroom, hoping not to be noticed before I realized I was the first to arrive. Cool. I shuffled over towards a desk off to the side of the room (the teacher didn't care where we sat, really). I dropped my stuff and slipped into the seat, sighing softly and changing the song on my iPod. Mika; _Grace Kelly_. Oooh, yes. I loved Mika. He's amazing. Seriously, look him up sometime. His songs are beautifully catchy and they sound so damned happy.

I nodded my head to the beat, mouthing the words as I pulled out my journal and a pen again. Making doodles and writing down words here and there when I felt the urge. I didn't really pay any attention to them, though. Lyrics like _why don't you like me? Why don't you like me without making me try?_ were filling my head and I was still thinking about Tommy. I couldn't help it. I couldn't get over the fact that he talked to me. He with dirty blond hair brushed over to one side and _gorgeous_ brown eyes. I sighed softly, dipping my head over my journal and letting my hair curtain half of my face.

I had my headphones in, sure, but I'd turned them down before entering the classroom, so I heard his footsteps. I glanced up from my journal, seeing Tommy again. How many classes did we have together? I blinked, seeing the tug of a smile at his lips as he seemed to start walking towards me. But then I heard the patter of many other students, and I looked away again as a crowd came in after him and swarmed. It was as if they were a crowd of moths and he was the glaring light. I couldn't help the frown. I could never get into a crowd like them. I was a nobody, remember?

I bit down on my bottom lip as all the girls touched him. The heat of jealousy washed over my face and I turned away a little, relaxing more in my chair and scribbling random words and doodles. I wasn't paying any attention to it. But I glanced at the page and tore it out of my journal, crumpling it in a ball. I bent down and shoved the ball into my bag before sitting up again and going back to my journal. I took a quick peak back at Tommy, seeing that he was still answering questions and informing people of where he was from. He seemed much more animated in his speech, but he looked uncomfortable again. He kept eyeing the girls who were touching him. He seemed annoyed.

Maybe that was my wishful thinking speaking again. Ugh.

The song changed to one of my personal favorites by Darren Hayes. Soft, smooth intro and beautiful beats. I tapped my fingers at first before deciding to write down the lyrics. That's what I did, when I couldn't think of anything of my own. I rewrote song lyrics because the process cleared my head. My pen moved in swirls, I was already behind with the song, but I didn't mind it. But it didn't help my thoughts. _We practice love between these sheets. The candy sweetness scent of you, it bathes my skin, I'm stained in you. And all I have to do is hold you, there's a racing within my heart, and I am barely touching you…_

Of course I was thinking about Tommy. I stole another glance in his direction, though it would have seemed like I was looking at the entire group. I looked away again, sighing and continuing to write the words down on the otherwise blank page. _The moonlight plays upon your skin, a kiss that lingers takes me in. I fall asleep inside of you, there are no words, there's only truth. Breathe in, breathe out, there is no sound, we move together up and down—_ but that was all I managed. I didn't see the shadows looming over me and I didn't hear the snickers and whispers because my thoughts were gone. I was thinking about running my fingers over that porcelain skin through the fishnet and wondering wildly what he tasted like when the paper was ripped away from my grasp. My eyes widened and my head shot up, and I stared up at two football players that, unfortunately, happened to be in this class.

"What have we got here, Theatre Dweeb?" They called me a variety of things, "Theatre Dweeb" perhaps being the least insulting. I knew I was a Theatre dweeb. I was damn proud of that fact.

"Give that back!" I said, pulling myself from my desk and reaching for it. But the player holding the paper lunged away and the other stood in my way. I groaned, side-stepping him quickly and rushing to the other. True, it was not my own work, but I doubted they knew that. I really, really doubted it.

"Oho, fag writes poetry!" He shouted, grinning. I never mentioned my sexuality, but they assumed anyway. I didn't deny it heavily, and I often would play it off. But inside, every time, it cut deep. I know it's just words, but it still hurts, you know? I glanced over at the swarm, seeing people laughing. Except Tommy. He just stood there, glaring at the players.

"Give that back!" I shouted again, reaching for it. But the guy had to be at least another head taller than me. I was around six feet tall, but even I couldn't reach it when he held the paper over his head. The second guy grabbed me and pulled me away, allowing the first to bring the paper back down and read it aloud, too fast and too jokingly.

"When moonlight crawls along the street, chasing away the summer heat, footsteps outside somewhere below, the world revolves. I've let it go. We built our church above the street…" He snorted, looking at me, "we practice _love_ between these sheets." My face flushed and I looked away, clenching my jaw and biting hard on my bottom lip. I could not believe this was happening. Where the fuck was the history teacher?

"The candy sweetness scent of you, it bathes my skin, I'm stained in you. And all I have to do is hold you, there's a racing within my heart and I'm barely _touching you_." There were more snorts and laughter, and I struggled against the second guy, trying to pull out of his grip. But if anything, it tightened around my wrists and I cringed.

"Stop it, you guys!" Tommy said, his voice harsh and cold. They looked at him as he just stared at me. "You're hurting him." My heart was racing in my throat and for a moment I forgot to breathe.

"Whatever—" the first guy muttered, before continuing. "Turn the lights down low, take it off, let me show you, my love for you, insatiable. Turn me on, never stop, wanna taste every drop, my love for you, insatiable," ooh's and ah's and I could feel the sting of tears welling in my eyes. God fucking damnit. This was exactly why I rarely wrote down things around other people. Because they got nosy and they had no respect for anyone or anything other than themselves…

"I said stop it!" Tommy shouted again, and I looked up to see his fist slamming into the football player's gut. He keeled and Tommy punched him in the face, sending him to the floor. The second guy shoved me aside and I crashed into a desk. But that didn't bother me. I looked over at Tommy, watching fearfully. He was going to get himself ki— wait, I lied. In the time that I readjusted and looked after hitting the desk, he'd managed to get the second player into a headlock.

And then, of course, the teacher came in.

"Mr. Ratliff, I see you're making nice with the new classmates." He said, pushing his glasses farther up his nose before setting his things down at his desk. Tommy let go of the player immediately, flushing red. People were staring with wide eyes and opened mouths. My paper was left, abandoned on the floor. My bottom lip was abused from my constant gnawing on it, and I sighed heavily. Tommy rubbed the back of his neck before bending down and grabbing my paper, walking over to me and handing it back. I took it, not looking at him. I couldn't believe it was read aloud. Again, it wasn't mine. But I was thinking about him while re-writing beautiful lyrics… Wasn't that bad enough?

"Alright class, as soon as these two get back to their seats, we'll begin today's lesson." The players were still struggling to get up. They were probably in just as much shock as everyone else that someone, quite literally, half their size just kicked their ass. I watched out of the corner of my eye as Tommy grabbed his stuff and sat in a seat across from mine. The crowd kind of followed, but they weren't packed around him, and they didn't sit in my row. A sigh of relief can be entered here, yes. I'm not much for crowds.

I tried to ignore the few moments of embarrassment that I suffered. I tried to ignore the glances that Tommy was sending at me, and I tried to keep my own stolen peaks to a minimum, but I just couldn't do it. Only once, though, did we look at the same time. My face heated and I looked away, swallowing the lump in my throat again. My hands were trembling, and I had to fiddle with my pen a lot, twirling it around my fingers or doodling to keep myself from just losing it.

It was as if Tommy's entrance to my life had made everything topsy-turvy. True, it was just today, and things had otherwise been relatively the same. But… I didn't know. I never really thought about anyone. Never had an interest in anyone. But… Now Tommy comes along and all of a sudden I'm tripping. I shook my head a little, running my fingers through my hair. I could feel his eyes on me but I didn't look this time. No. I just needed to stop thinking.

And class couldn't finish soon enough. I packed my things and grabbed whatever was left, before standing and throwing the strap over my shoulder and rushing around down the row and towards the door. I heard people talking, probably trying to get Tommy's attention, before they were asking where he was going. I held my binder and copy of _Wicked_ close to my chest as I walked down the hallway. I could hear shoes slapping the ground behind me.

"Adam, wait!" I exhaled, pausing briefly as he came up beside me. He was just a few inches shorter than I was, I noticed.

"What?" I asked, sounding harsher than I meant. He frowned a little, looking away and tucking his bangs behind his ear. I licked my lips, waiting for him to explain.

"Look, I— I'm sorry about what happened, in there." He said, his voice soft again. It was like he was a different person around me. I'd seen him talking so enthusiastically and everything, and with me he was quiet and reserved. Shy, almost. It was cute… Stop it, Lambert.

"It wasn't your fault." I told him, before walking again. I couldn't explain why I was acting so coldly; partly because I didn't want him to ask about the lyrics, I guess. But I had a nagging feeling in my stomach that he was going to at some point anyway. And I didn't want to keep walking away. I wanted to pin him against a locker and—

"I know that, but… still… It was wrong of them to invade on your stuff like that." He commented. I bit down on my bottom lip. Why was he concerned with someone like me when he was so fucking popular?

"It wasn't even mine. I was just re-writing someone else's lyrics cause I was bored." I told him in a huff as we walked out to the courtyard, towards the front of the school. People bustled around us, and for once no one bothered to stop Tommy to try and talk to him. Either everyone already had or they didn't notice. Either were possible and both were probably true, too. But I didn't really know or care.

"I know," he said as he followed me to the front of the school. I stopped, turning towards him with confusion on my face like I was a fucking Etch-A-Sketch. "I… I listen to Darren Hayes too… on occasion." He said, smiling slightly.

God, that smile. I couldn't help it, I smiled back (but I kept my mouth closed. I was very conscious of my teeth and damned braces), before shifting my bag a little higher on my shoulder. The sunlight was catching the color of his eyes, turning them from a dark brown to a golden and hazel sort of color. Like burnt honey. I could have stared all day at his eyes, and I probably would have if I hadn't heard a car honk. I blinked, turning my head and seeing my dad. I sighed.

"I gotta go." I told him. He nodded, seeming sad.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" He asked after a brief moment. I gave him a half smile.

"Sure." I said, waving goodbye and turning away, rushing to the car. I opened the door and piled my stuff inside before shutting the door and sighing, buckling myself in.

"Who's your friend?" My dad asked. I laughed, looking at Tommy through the window. He was watching me leave with a smile on his face.

"New kid. Tommy."


	6. Sometimes I Think I'm Crazy

**Chapter Six: Sometimes I Think I'm Crazy******

**Tommy's POV**

After Adam's car turned around the bend of the school parking lot, my dad's car showed up in front of me. I only realized this after he opened the window and yelled, "Why the hell are you smiling to yourself, you dork?" I turned my attention to the car, laughing, thankful that everybody was either inside or already gone. Nothing new with dad.

I opened the car door and slipped inside, my bag falling in front of me. "How was the first day of this shithole, kiddo?" He started the engine again and wound around the lot. I laughed. Dad never wanted to move. He was a Chicago man. But mom got a better job offer here, and she wanted to work. Ma hated letting dad do all the work, even if he insisted it was fine. I shrugged, "Fine, I guess. Some pretty cool kids here and there," I smiled myself at that. Yeah, Adam Lambert being the fucking best one. But I didn't say it out loud. He'd start poking fun at me, sarcastic questions popping up. He'd ask if I was gay for him or if Adam was. And, at the moment, they were both possible.

Dad smirked, turning the wheel right, heading out of the school area; there was only one high school in this particularly small area of Los Angeles. It was kind of off to the side of Hollywood. Much like the suburbs, I guess you could say. Dad drove down the narrow lanes fairly quickly, but it wasn't on my mind that much. I've been in a new school for a day, and this one kid may have made me realize I was gay. _May have,_being the main words. I thought about what it would be like to have a boyfriend, holding his hand through the-

Boyfriend...? Holy _shit!_Mia!

I didn't realize we were already home, but dad parked in the garage and I practically leaped out of the car. I opened the door of the garage leading into the kitchen, running past a shitload of boxes. I tripped over a couple, but never fell. Pft, I was too _sly_ to fall. I was Tommy Joe fucking Ratliff. Mom was in the living room, unpacking one of, what I assumed to be, Lisa's boxes. "Hi honey, how was-" I ran up the stairs, again tripping over a couple steps. "Fine, great, awesome, talk to you later!" I made it into my room, at first staring around it. Oh yeah. New room. I forgot. I panted a little, checking the corner of the room and smiling to myself. Ah, my baby, my life. My bass. I don't know what I would do without it. I already had everything unpacked out of my boxes with the exception of one box of CD's. I took my phone out of my pocket, flipping it open- 2:36. School should be over by now. I pressed 2 - obviously, my baby was on speed dial- and pressed the little green button, putting the cell to my ear.

"_Hi, you've reached Mia. Who are you?"_ She laughed her cute laugh, _"...leave a message and I'll-"_ I stared, confused, at the blank wall in front of me. Why didn't she-? Oh, shit. I laughed to myself before I flipped the phone back down and sat down on the carpeted floor. I laughed again before laying down, crossing my hands behind my head, and staring at the ceiling. I forgot that she was two timezones away. And it was 4:36 in Chicago right now, not 2:36. Mia was probably at work by now. I needed to remember this shit...

The rest of the day went by in a haze, discussing first day of school with the family at dinner. Dinner was fucking fabulous, obviously. Chicken parm. Yum-o. Mom never made anything bad. Except for this one time... But what the hell does that have to do with this afternoon? Lisa and I played some COD after dinner, and the little fucker killed me three times. She always beat me. I still didn't understand how she could be better than me.

After getting killed another five times, I got up. "Ya got me beat," I told her, putting my hands up as a white flag. I started walking backwards and eventually turned around, only to get hit in the back of the head with a hard pillow. "Where are you going?" she yelled at me, a grin forming on her face. The little bitch was proud, for sure. I turned around, and another pillow hit me in the face. "Ah, you little fucker!" I yelled, laughing as I picked up the pillows off the ground and threw them back at her. "Lemme take a shower. I smell like a fucking perfume bottle from all the girls hugging me today," I started walking up the stairs, rubbing my neck and blowing raspberries.

Whilst in the shower, I couldn't help but think about none-the-other but Mr. Adam Lambert. His hair was so beautiful, so black, so...beautiful. Wait, I already said that. But his eyes- his _eyes_, they were worse than hypnosis. I'm sure I would have stared into them for the rest of the day if I could have. His perfectly painted nails, his ratty converse- just like mine. His- I shook my head, the water softly tapping against my scalp. I can't be..._gay_. I can't like dick. I can't...To put it simply, my parents would disown me. Quite the homophobes, my parents. Need everything to be in perfect place, the way they want it to be. My wet bangs suddenly felt heavy against my face. I sat down in the tub, my feet making squeak-y sounds. I pulled my legs up to my chest and huffed, wrapping my arms around my knees. Words like _gay, faggot, assfucker,_ and such swarmed around my head. Shit...

I finally got out of the shower, a towel wrapped around my waist. I did all my basic essentials; brushed my teeth, put on my boxers, brushed my hair, yadda yadda yadda, before lying down on the floor again. I sighed, propping myself up on my elbow and reaching over to grab my bass. It was beautiful. Thick, sleek, a dark, yet light, color of blue. It reminded me of Adams eyes, in a way. Deep and oceanic, yet light and airy at the same time. I closed my eyes and plucked a few chords before remembering Adams paper in class. I tried to remember how the melody went, and starting slowly plucking the strings into the Insatiable intro. Fucking football players. Like they knew who Darren Hayes was. It had taken me a while to realize that it was Insatiable, but once I realized it was, I couldn't do anything but feel bad for him that they thought they were his own words. Well, that's a lie. I _did_ do something, I beat the shit out of them. But it was basically too late. The damage had been done.

I continued to play on my bass, getting into the first verse of the beautiful song. I hummed softly to myself, "When moonlight crawls along the street...Chasing away the summer heat...Footsteps outside, somewhere below...The world revolves, I've let it go...We build our Church above the street...We practiced love between these sheets.." I stopped plucking and humming for a second, opening my eyes again. I mentally skimmed the lyrics, blinking once and smiling to myself, "I fall asleep inside of you..."


	7. Coffee And A Smoke

**Chapter Seven: She starts her day with coffee and a smoke…**

**Adam's POV**

Before I met Tommy, I didn't notice how time passed. It seemed as if everything was mechanical, yet enjoyable and displeasing all the same. It was high school, you know? The same dramatic shit every day. Except now there was someone who changed that for me. True, I hadn't known him very long, but it seemed like time revolved around Tommy… Like he was… I don't know. I'm not making much sense right now.

But… When I was at home or in a class that Tommy wasn't it, time dragged on. It felt like everything took forever. And when I was around him or in the same class as him, time moved too quickly. I didn't get enough of it with him. True, it didn't exactly help that with the way our school worked that every other day our fourth periods changed. One day we'd have History together, the other day I'd have Theatre and he'd have gym. Our only classes together were English and History.

And lunch, but sometimes I still spent that alone.

It had been, what, two weeks since Tommy transferred. Already he'd been invited to parties and surrounded by all kinds of girls pressing their tits to his chest. The image was revolting, but I wasn't sure exactly how he himself took it. I tried not to let it sink into my head too much, but the ideas of him around girls made me wonder if he was actually straight; if he had a girlfriend; if this, if that. It bothered me when I knew that it shouldn't.

I sighed angrily, clenching my bag closer to my body and walking off to my second period class; Advanced Algebra. The nice thing about choir this morning is that, afterward, I was able to talk to my teacher about a solo for our Winter Concert he wanted me to do. I wondered, for the sake of the class, if it would be too much; if it would look as if I was showing off. He waved the issue away and said it would be fine. It just concerns me a little when he wants me to sing _Silent Night _and let the rest of the choir… listen.

Whatever.

I walked down the hallway, my headphones shoved deep into my ears. I saw a couple of football players, and I made quick work to mingle to the other side of the hall before I passed them. I didn't want to press my luck being around them. Sure, Tommy had managed to miraculously show up when they'd been around (which meant they left me alone a large portion of the time), but as far as I knew, he wasn't around in this general area of the school. I tried to ignore their glares as I walked by, and I pulled my bag closer, willing Jason Mraz's vocals to calm me down.

I wasn't thinking or paying attention when I bumped into him. I apologized quickly, looking at the stumbling figure before feeling my heart melt. It was Tommy, and he looked like a bit of a wreck. His hair was messy, hanging lazily along the side of his face. His eyes were bloodshot and he reeked of booze. I coughed into the crook of my elbow before grabbing his arm, helping him stand upright before pulling him to the side of the hallway. He leaned against the wall, looking like death.

"What the fuck, Tommy?" I hissed at him, and he slowly turned his head, his eyes looking right through me.

"Oh, hey, Ad'm…" He said with a lopsided, hung over grin, before wincing as someone's Nike's squealed on the floor. He raised his hand, pressing it to the left side of his head.

"What the— what did you _do_ last night?" I growled, feeling my voice drop a few octaves. When I got angry or upset, my voice dropped. It was weird.

"Went to a party. Drank _a loooot_. But it was fun… Kinda." He mumbled, rubbing his eyes again. I sighed, running fingers through my hair before staring down the hallway. People passed by, whispering and laughing. Something like 'the new kid got wasted' and 'awesome'. Whatever. Fucking pushovers.

"Tommy, this kind of shit can get you fucking kicked out of school! What are you thinking?" I was on the verge of shouting at him, and the hall was clearing out. Class was going to start soon, but by the looks of my situation, I was either going to be really, really fucking late or just miss it all together. Neither were really on my list of priorities, but I needed to help Tommy.

He looked up at me, his eyes focusing for a moment and… He looked guilty. Like, extremely guilty. And ashamed. I sighed, wrapping an arm around his waist and helping him down the hallway. "Look, I'm gonna take you to the nurse and have you lay down. Maybe you can sleep this shit off…" I mumbled, awkwardly half-carrying Tommy towards the health center. His head lolled and rested against my shoulder, and he felt like dead weight.

Now, I'm not gonna lie. In the past two weeks, I've had all kinds of dreams about Tommy. Between kissing him and telling him I fucking want him. And there had even been dreams where, by some circumstance, I was holding him… A lot. But this wasn't among any of the dreams I'd had. I never imagined that I'd be helping him to a cot in a small, white room because he fucking drank too much.

Way to go, Tommy.

"I'm reeeaaal sorry, Ad'm…" He mumbled, his eyes half closed. I sighed, pulling him closer to me.

"It's fine, just don't do it again." I told him, though I doubted he would remember much of this. I wouldn't know, I've never been drunk or hung over.

"'Kay…" He said softly. I held him against the wall while opening the health center door with my other hand. It swung wide and I pulled Tommy inside. The nurse, Ms. Tomlanovich, sat at her desk. She looked up, smiling first at me before seeing Tommy. The smile dropped into confusion and worry and she stood quickly from her chair, rushing over to help me keep Tommy in an upright position.

"Okay, Adam, tell me what's going on here." She said, her voice soft and smooth, motherly, even.

"Party." I said simply. She made an 'ahh' sound before helping Tommy into the next room, down on the cot. She tucked a pillow beneath his head and a small yet thick blanket over his frame. I stared down at him from the doorway, my arms crossed over my chest as she kept a trash can near and a glass of water on a low side table that stood beside the cot. Tommy pulled the blanket closer around him, and I got a real, good look at his face. Dark circles lined the undersides of his eyes, his skin was pale and ashy. He looked sick. I wondered if he'd thrown up at some point…

"Alrighty then…" She said, shutting off the light and closing the door. I pulled my bag higher up on my shoulder, staring at the closed door for a moment before looking over at her again. "I'll keep him in here today, we'll let him just sleep it off. When he wakes up later, I'll give him some Advil and send him home. I imagine you've already given him the 'don't do it again' talk?" I nodded and she smiled.

"I can always count on you, Adam." She turned, heading back to her desk.

"Uhm, Ms. Tomlanovich?"

"Honey, call me Anne. You know that." I smiled slightly.

"Yeah, I know… but… Can you, like, let me know, when he wakes up?" I asked her. She turned her head over her shoulder, looking at me for a second. Her eyes narrowed slightly and she turned in her chair, facing me fully.

"You like him." She said. My face flushed and I looked away, my eyebrows knitting together and a shy smile playing at my lips.

"What makes you say that?" I asked her.

"I've seen that look before, Adam. You like him." I swallowed the lump in my throat before looking away again. Yeah, okay. I liked him, so? Who didn't in this fucking school? But I wondered how much she thought I liked him…

"Well, yeah, I like him. He's my friend. What other reason do I need?" I asked her, feeling my face burn with embarrassment. That was the thing about Anne. She knew me way too damn well. As she should, she'd known me since I first started high school.

But Anne just smiled and shook her head, before waving me off. "Get to class, Adam. I'll talk to your teacher about it later." She told me. I frowned, pulling my bag closer and slipping out of the room. I closed the door behind me quietly, shaking my head a little bit and smiling slightly to myself. Anne confused me sometimes. She was an intelligent woman with a lot of opinions about people and things, especially friendships and relationships. I guess that was one of the nice things about her. She wasn't just the health nurse. She was also one of the counselors.

I hurried down the hallway, heading to Algebra and hoping to Rah that my tardiness wouldn't be too much of an issue. But I couldn't get my mind off Tommy and what Anne had said. I was worried about him because he was, in a sense, sick… And I didn't want to see him like that. And I was wondering what Anne's smile was about, when she said I liked him… I mean… Yeah, I liked him. I _really_ liked him…

I didn't know. It was all so confusing.

I turned down another hallway, pulling open a door and slipping into my class. My teacher looked up, shaking his head and smiling a little before continuing. I frowned apologetically, taking my seat. Thankfully only the entire class looked over at me. No big deal. Fuck. I pulled my binder and math notebook out, praying that I hadn't missed to much. But by looking on the board I was safe to assume that I hadn't.

Even still… As much as I liked math. I couldn't concentrate. Just… Tommy… And what the hell was Anne thinking? I sighed, running fingers through my hair and scribbling down notes as fast as I could before my teacher erased them. While copying the notes, I thought about how lunch would be coming up after English. Should I take food to Tommy? See if he's awake by then? I sighed.

When the hell did I start revolving my world around one person?


	8. I Have Become Comfortably Numb

**Chapter Eight: I Have Become Comfortably Numb  
Tommy's POV**

"Chug, chug, chug, chug!" were the same words that surrounded me for...God knows how long.

I didn't know what was going on around me. My vision was going blurry, my hands were shaking up a storm, and my throat was burning. The table under my feet shook occasionally, but not enough to make me jump for it. I'd lost track of how much alcohol I had taken into my system, it was almost impossible to count. Especially when you're drunk. As far as I knew, (if you consider not remembering your own name 'knowing' at the time) I'd been through eleven bottles of good ol' Bud, six monster sized shots of Absolute- gotta love the Russians for that-, three jello-Patron shots, and two glasses of Hennesy.

What? So I drank a _lot_... It wasn't my fault I had a strong stomach for the time being.

A couple of different pairs of hands were - what felt like - permanently laced onto my shoulders. The atmosphere was thick with blood, sex, and booze, heavy emphasize on the booze. Girls' boobs were shoved into my face, guys arms extended towards me with more beer. The malty liquid ran down my throat, and then some down my neck and into the Manson shirt that was hugging my frame, but who could really give two shits when you've had a few too many?

Bellows of excitement filled the crowded room as I held the twelfth empty bottle above my head, though it didn't remain there long. Another bottle was stuck into my hand and pressed to my lips, more of the ale leaking into my aching mouth. My head was on the verge of exploding on the spot. Sure, I'd drank a shitload before, but never this much. Hell, bitches were crazy in Chicago, but these bitches even crazier. Why do I sound like a gangster...? Oh, yeah. Cause I'm _drunk_...and getting crunk. Ha...ha...ahh...Shit, I really am drunk.

The thirteenth (haha, my lucky number...apparently not so lucky anymore) bottle was pulled away from my lips, and I coughed into my sleeve. I was pretty sure I pulled it away...but I could be wrong. 'Boo's came from all sides of me, but I shook my head. "Hell, no, guys. I'm done for tonight," I slurred, my trachea blazing throughout every word. I awkwardly jumped off of the table and stumbled my way out of the crowd, bumping into somebody here and there. A few people still stuck out bottles to my face, but I pushed them aside, walking into the kitchen...At least, I _think_ it was the kitchen...

I plopped down into a chair, resting my arm on the table in front of me. I was suddenly aware of just how loud the music was, and it irritated me. Blood was pumping ferociously through my blood vessels and I heard the thumpa thumpa in my ears- both from music and ferocious pumping. Slowly, the crowd dispersed from the living room, and I couldn't help but smirk to myself. I'd been the life of the party, the show. And now that I was done, it was back to plain drinking. I mean, drinking wasn't ever _plain_, but compared to my little entertaining, it was as plain as blank sheet music.

A beefy guy came up to me and patted me on the shoulder, making me shake all over the chair. "Dude, you just broke the fucking record." I looked up at him, rubbing my eyes. "What fucking record?" I asked, my voice breaking. He rolled his eyes, scoffing. His eyes were blood-shot, and his face was kinda pale. "The drinking record. The most anybody ever got was, like, eight beers, _maybe._ You had twelve, and on top of that, like, three other drinks. Way to go, man." He chuckled, the Cognac rolling off his breath before hiccuping. He walked away from me, stumbling into a few people who pushed him into another crowd. What idiots...

The sudden need to talk to Adam was eating at me. It..was pretty hard to stay away from him for a while. Just talking about him _to_ someone was less nerve wrecking than not talking to him. I called Mia every day, (now that I remembered it was two hours later) and talked about Adam for the last couple minutes of our conversation before she had to go. It was just a little snippet of what was going on, but it was plenty enough.

Something clattered onto the table and I jumped, moving my hand. I looked over, my eyes playing tricks. Fuck, what was that? A...box...? Or something...My peepers adjusted, and I saw a six pack of beer on the table, along with a girl with huge tits, and an ass to match. I was pretty sure she was from my school, and she was probably in one of my classes, or two. But her name escaped my drunken mind. The pink tank top that ceased at her belly button (which was pierced, mind you) was low cut, showing a colossal amount of her cleavage. Her tight jeans formed around her cheeks, like perfect little round peaches. I scoffed, looking away and placing my head in my palm. "Not interested," I muttered, staring ahead in front of me at nothing in particular.

Her gluteus maximus was in my lap, and I found myself running my hand along her chest, subconsciously. "In what? The beer, or the girl?" She questioned. Her voice was seductive, shaking in the tiniest bit. A smirk played on my lips, my eyes half closed. I could smell the Vodka practically leaking out of her breath, but it didn't bother me. I was drunk, she was drunk, we're all a happy family of drunks in this house. Woopee. Who's house was it anyway...? L-...T-...M...Ma...It'll come to me.

Her glossy, plump, pink lips graced mine, and I could feel the pressure growing in my jeans. "Well, it definitely can't be you, honey." I muttered against her lips. I didn't bother asking her name; I'd forget it anyway. Her lips crashed onto mine, sweet and filled with alcohol. She intertwined her tongue with mine, swirling around in my mouth. Her hand brushed against my stiff one, and she slowly started to get up, grabbing my hand and pulling me along with her to the staircase.

"C'mon, lil' boy. Let me show you how we do it here in L.A."

-

My head bent over the trash can, and my stomach made somersaults as I heaved. My brain was plummeting in my head, pulsing like no other fucking mother. Of all the four times I'd 'brought it back up' that day, I'd made it to the porcelain bowl, because honestly, I was used to the cold of the toilet surrounding my face. But my feet wouldn't will me to move this time.

Anne looked over at me and pushed away from her desk as I fell from the cot onto my knees. I gripped the side of the can, my knuckles going cold. A hand pulled the hair away from my face, making it easier for me to...well, to put it lightly, gag. The acid stung my already burned throat. Anne clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth when I paused momentarily, before the surge passed through my esophagus again. Oh, hey, look at that. I _do_ learn something at school.

'Alcoholism 101.' I should pass.

The stream finally ended after a few minutes, and I struggled to breathe. Anne let go of my hair and walked away from me, and I could only assume she went to get a cup of water. I coughed loudly into the bin, spitting the last of it out. My head hung loosely before I slowly moved myself away. The bin disappeared from in front of me, moved to the side of the room. I crawled along the floor, towards the cold wall. My head greeted the wall with a loud thud, not helping the ache. I squeezed my eyes shut, my mouth hanging open. I groaned, putting a hand on the side of my head that hit the God damn cement...or whatever the hell walls are made of.

"Oww..." I whimpered, my eyes rolling back into my head. The lights above me flickered on. I yelled into my sleeve before covering my eyes with my hands. "Turn it off, turn it off!" I screeched, the light still slipping through my fingers. Anne sighed, and I heard the click of the light switch before it went dim again. My hands went limp against my face and fell back to my side. She stood in front of me with the cup, her other hand on her hip. Her face was in between a motherly look and a You're-Such-A-Dipshit glare. I frowned, starting at her. _Don't give me that look, bitch. It's not my fault,_ the voice in my head grumbled. It really was my fault, but I couldn't comprehend that at the time. I looked up at her through my curtain of hair, squinting angrily before taking the cup from her hand. I knew she was nice, but when you're hungover, nobody was nice. Everybody was evil...especially M-...Ma...Mon...Monnnnn...Monte. Yeah, Monte. Fuck, yeah. I remembered his name.

My hand trembled against the cup as I brought it to my lips, taking a sip of the cold water. It felt good against my fiery throat, calming my senses. I leaned my head against the wall- slowly, this time- and looked at the ceiling, drawing a face into it. Adams face, to be exact, but like you didn't know that. I sighed, rubbing my eyes with my free hand. "Anne?" I grouched, looking for her around the room. The first time I'd woken up, she told me to just call her Anne, and I had no problem with that. "Anne?" I mumbled loudly. But wouldn't it be just extravagant if she actually _answered_ to the name she told me to call her? I think I'm just bitching.

She walked into the room, her lips pressed into a tight line and her eyes wide. She had a sweater in her hand, and she folded it around her arm and put both hands on her broad hips. "Yes?" She said through her teeth. I stared at her, looking her up and down. She wasn't anymore duller than the rest of the kids here, with the exception of big brown eyes. I looked away from her, staring at the ceiling again. "What time is it?" I asked in a low voice. I started drawing Adams features again, the most important being his beautiful cerulean eyes, shaded by glasses. A soft smile formed on my lips.

"Time for you to get back to sleep," she said, her voice thick with disbelief. Disbelief in what, you ask? Well, ask Anne, cause I sure as hell didn't know.

An exaggerated sigh rolled of my lips into the moist air of the room. "Fine, but what time is it?" I asked again, starting to pick my lazy ass off of the floor. My back hit the cot as she walked over and tucked the blanket around me. She really was extremely motherly. I wondered if she had kids...

"It's about two, Tommy. Now close your eyes before I close them for you," she smiled and ruffled my hair across my face. She started towards the door, shaking her head and giggling. The door closed silently behind her, and I squinted in the dark. How did I even get in here? I couldn't remember _anything_ from last night or that morning. The last thing I remember is having my second beer, but I knew I'd had way more than two beers. I wouldn't be laying here if I'd had only two beers. How did I get to school? Where were my things? Where was Adam?

"Fuck..." I muttered to myself, wiping the little beads of sweat that formed around my jawline. I was breaking into a cold sweat, and it bothered me to a certain extent. A couple minutes passed of just staring up, pretending there was no ceiling, or roof, and I was staring at the sky. It was as clear as a summer morning, though it was only the beginning of Spring. I could feel the breeze coming in through the windows, despite the fact that they're weren't any windows in the secluded room. I saw myself, with Adam and-

I shook my head, grunting and placing curled hands at my eyes. No! No, no, no. I don't like him as anything more than a friend, and neither does he, so even _if_ I did, it wouldn't matter. I'm the only fucked up one. Adam's normal. He. Is. _Normal._ He likes pussy as much as the next guy, and the same goes for me. I...I do...and so does Adam...right? Right...Don't argue with me, I'm hungover.

The sound of the main door to the clinic opening brought me out of my thoughts. I nestled against the cot, pulling the blanket up to my nose. Willing myself to fall asleep wasn't working...Rah. Pretending to sleep works, too.

"...he just fell asleep a couple of minutes ago, Adam." The door clicked open softly, letting a stream of light pour in. I tried my hardest not to cringe at the luminescence. Nothing happened for a long time. It felt as though everything was stuck in time. The light slowly dispersed, the door clicking shut again. Footsteps pattered over to me, something thudding against the floor before it went eerily quiet again. The cot shifted lower, and a warm hand brushed against my iced-over cheek. He sighed, running his fingertips over the dark circles under my eyes. It...it felt nice... his hands weren't overly heated like some. The fingertips trailed back down to my cheek, rubbing lightly.

His hand roamed all around my face for a few before he brushed the hair out from my eyes. "You're such an idiot, Tommy..." He whispered, patting the top of my head. I smirked, mentally. _Did you really just realize that?_ "But you're a cute idiot, you know?" He muttered, his palm settling on the roots of my hair. Did...he just call me..._cute_? He chuckled softly, the hand continuing to mess up my hair. He started humming something...some kind of ballad. It sounded...really familiar. It was...shit, curse me and my hungover brain.

He started mumbling little words while humming, and it slowly came together into a song. His hand continued to stroke (shut the fuck up, perverts,) my hair, and my mind started to slowly function as his humming progressed into singing. His voice was...beautiful. Magical. Enticing. Any other word for brilliant would fit. His voice made the queasiness in my stomach that I'd had all morning start to fade, along with putting me to sleep with the tenderness he was singing in.

"...and all I have to do is hold you, there's a racing within my heart..." His fingers lingered on my forehead, as if pressing the song into my head. Wait a God damned second. That was...for Christs sake, what was it called? "And I am barely touching you," he quietly wailed. He kept singing for a long time, even after the lyrics ended."Oh"s and "Yeah"s continued after the song was over. Damn, if only I didn't need to pretend to be sleeping...

I didn't want Adam to leave. I wanted him to stay here for the rest of the day with me. But my wishes never come true. The door cracked open again, and Anne's voice came low and sweet, "Adam, honey, let him rest for another period. Then you can come back again, alright? You need to get to History, anyway." Wait, _what_? History? That was the last period of the fucking day! And it was one of the two classes that I had with Adam a day...I'd been in here for all of eight hours...crap...

His hand fell away from my forehead, and the cot bounced lightly as he got up. He picked what I guessed to be his bag off of the floor, walking to the door of the little room. He mumbled a small "Thank you," before going on his way. The door to my little room and the main room both closed, as did my now tired eyes. But I still couldn't fall asleep. Not anymore. Not after hearing an angel sing. I mean, I knew he did theater, but I didn't know he sang like...like...it really wasn't comparable. It was unique and engaging and seductive and sexy and-

Wait...what were those last two? Did I just call Adam's voice sexy? I rarely compare _anything_ to being sexy. Fuck, Adam, what have you done to me? I laughed out loud, shaking my head. It was incredible what two weeks of a transfer could do to you.

I didn't (more like couldn't) do anything for the rest of the day. By the time Adam came back at the end of the day, I was feeling almost brand new. He smiled and took me into a bear hug. "Now, promise you won't do that again?" I gave him a lopsided grin and nodded. "I'll try to, anyway." I said, wincing as a ball bounced against the ground outside. "Shit..." I muttered, putting my hand to the left side of my head. I might not be throwing up anymore, but everything was still way too loud for me. I slinked my arm around his shoulder, and he around my waist, balancing myself. I hadn't walked all day, remember?

Adam looked behind him to Anne, pushing his glasses up his nose with his free hand. "Thanks, Anne." He yelled to her. Her head whipped up from her work and smiled, waving to us. "Go on, get the hell outta here, boys." She gave a look to Adam, and he returned it. Uh...what just happened there? Whatever. We walked down the hallway, earning glances from a couple of girls who dared to stare. I stuck my tongue out at them, and kept stumbling with Adam. They giggled, prancing away like merry little pricks. Pft, some people are just that stupid.

"Adam?" I grumbled, my head lolling on his shoulder. "Hmm?" He looked over at me with his big blue eyes, pouring into me. "Tell me something..." I asked lazily. He blinked a few times before nodding.

"How often do new people come here?" He chuckled beside me, shaking his head. "Not too often, actually. We've practically all known each other since we were in Kindergarten. I think only one person has transferred here, in seventh grade, but he moved away a couple months later. It's probably the reason everyone crowds around you. Just excited that something new and exciting has come to town." It took a while for my brain to process what he was saying, but I eventually nodded and kept walking.

We reached the main entrance, and Adam used his free hand to push the door open. He pulled me along into the burning light of the sun, and I cringed, bending my head down. "Bitchy sun..." I muttered, my voice hoarse. Didn't speak almost all day, either. Adam laughed beside me, still dragging me along. "Well, you obviously can't go home like this..." He said, looking over at me. The sun glinted off of the metal in his mouth, and I smiled to myself. They would be off by the end of year, he told me. I pulled my hood up around my face, wishing I had my sunglasses with me.

"Movies?" I asked, looking up at him with a squint and a grin.


	9. So Take a Chance, Don't Ever Look Back

**Chapter Nine: So take a chance and don't ever look back**

**Adam's POV**

Movies, Tommy? Really?

Be cool, Lambert. It's not a date… right?

I sat in the backseat of my dad's car, with Tommy sitting beside me, his head resting against the window of his door. He was still a little out of it from his… extracurricular activities, but I was just glad he was well enough to walk and function and the like. Fortunately, my dad didn't ask questions about why Tommy looked ill. Only asked who he was. I replied, calmly, saying his name was Tommy and he was a good friend of mine, and if he'd be able to come over and hang out for a little while. Luckily, Dad had no problem with this.

I took a glance over at him, seeing the sun hitting his face, his eyes closed and his hood still pulled over his head. I smiled slightly, before looking away again and back down to my phone. Almost three-thirty and no new messages all day. '_Brad and Cass must be busy with their own things right now. Or each other, one of the two._' I thought to myself, gnawing on my bottom lip as the car swerved down several streets.

I stared at my hands for a long moment, letting my mind wander a little bit. Holy shit, Tommy was coming to my house to hang out? And we hadn't known each other for even a month? Balls. True, it was Spring, and Spring meant that the year would soon be coming to an end, but that wasn't the case. I'd never really had any friends other than Brad and Cass, and suddenly Tommy falls into my life. Into a school that barely gets any new people…

He must be scared. All the changes and everyone constantly staring at him and wanting to talk to him? I bit my lip and looked over at him again. His position hadn't changed at all. If he was scared or overwhelmed, I certainly couldn't blame him for it. If I was sent across the country to a new school and life, leaving behind anything familiar, I'd be overwhelmed and out of my mind, too. I looked down at his hand, which rested lazily on the seat between us.

Don't do it, Lambert. Don't you fucking dare.

But it was hard to resist. His fingers were long, toned with calluses that led me to believe he played an instrument of sorts. He didn't seem like the orchestra kind of guy, so I assumed it was something like guitar or bass. The skin was ivory; pale white-wash and glowing whenever the sun slid over it. I turned my head to push my gaze out of my own window and away from the temptation of fitting my fingers between his. He's probably not like that, anyway…

I noticed that we were in familiar surroundings, and that the approach to my house was imminent. Dad turned the wheel left, pulling us down a street that would lead to a right turn, up a small hill and our house would be on the left. I glanced at Tommy again, before nudging his elbow with mine to see if he was asleep. His eyes fluttered open and he sat up, looking around a little as we made the right turn, climbing the hill.

"What?" He asked me, rubbing the sleep and drunkenness from his eyes. I smiled slightly at him.

"Almost home." I told him. He blinked again and nodded once, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He had a pretty mouth…

Stop it, Adam. Just stop it, or you're going to make yourself depressed.

Tommy yawned beside me, stretching his arms a little as my dad pulled into the driveway of our house. I grabbed my bag at my feet, unbuckling my seat belt before opening the door and climbing out. Tommy followed in suit before looking up at our house, his eyes slightly wide and lips gently parted in awe. I smirked a little, following his shifting gaze to the structure.

Two stories, the roof a dark blue in contrast to the pearly-whiteness of the walls. Windows with black frames on both floors, the width of the house gave way to imagination that the inside was just as large as the outside. Two car garage just standing off with a small loft above it; that was my brother's room. The garage connected to the house in both top and bottom floor.

I walked over and nudged Tommy again, and he snapped out of his awe-filled trance; I smiled at him. "Come on," I said, motioning with my head towards the house itself. He followed behind me, his feet making quiet _pat-pat_'s on the concrete. I walked along a small concrete path that ran around the edges of the, unfortunately, small, front lawn up to the polished cherry front door. I turned the knob, pushing it open and stepping inside.

Tommy's gasp was audible, though I don't think he did it on purpose. High vaulted ceilings with light flowing in from the windows. All the floors were a nice hard-wood. Leather couches faced a television center on the western wall; a nice 360 hooked up to it. I wasn't much for video games, that was all my brother (and occasionally my dad). I walked across the living room, dropping my bag on one of the couches and hearing Tommy, behind me, doing the same.

I passed down a hallway, stepping briefly into the kitchen and dining room area— stainless steel appliances, hardwood floors, an island for additional work-space as well as serving for a breakfast bar. I turned to a sharp left, climbing the stairs that led to the second floor. Tommy's footsteps were quiet compared to mine; he was still getting used to everything, I imagined. I smiled slightly to myself, climbing the second flight of stairs before reaching the catwalk. There were two ways one could go. Right was toward my parent's bedroom and their bathroom. Left was my bedroom, another bathroom, and a spare bedroom. Half-walls that were the guardrails opened out to the dining room below for easy and open conversation.

I turned left, walking down to my room which was the first, and only, door on the right. My door was littered with posters of musicals and old bands like that I liked, such as Def Leppard, Bowie and Queen; Wicked, Sound of Music and RENT. I twisted the knob, pushing the door open before slipping inside and flopping onto my bed, face down. After a moment, I rolled over onto my back, seeing Tommy still standing in the door way.

Plush, white carpet served for the floor, my bed on the eastern wall. Two windows in the north, two in the west, letting light pour in from both directions. The walls were a soft blue trimmed with a dark navy. More posters of shows and bands and movies. My desk was on the northern wall, my Mac book set up but not turned on. A stereo sat in the north-west corner, playing a Bowie tune on a soft volume. A large closet tucked into the south wall filled with old costumes, coats, shirts and the like. A small bookcase was tucked along the west wall next to an arm chair for reading. The top shelf of the bookcase was filled with folders of sheet music and songs.

"Holy shit, you're loaded…" Tommy muttered and I threw my head back to laugh. His face went scarlet for a moment as he stepped into the room, cautiously at first, before sitting down next to me on the bed.

"Actually no. My grandparents are; they paid off the house." I told him. He glanced over at me, smiling a little and shaking his head.

"My parents and I could never afford a house like this… Too fucking poor in this shit economy." He mumbled softly. I detected a hint of jealousy, and I gently slung my arm over his shoulder, giving him a half-hug.

"Maybe now you're too poor. But just wait. One day you'll be so fucking rich you won't know what to do with yourself." I commented and he smiled, shaking his head a little before resting it against the inside of my shoulder. My heart skipped a little and I had to remind myself to be calm about this. We were just friends, after all.

"Doubtful." He muttered. I sighed softly, letting go and standing off the bed, hands on my hips. He looked up at me for a moment, confused. I smiled.

"Don't dream it. Be it." I said, quoting one of my favorite lines from _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_. I was only attempting to make him feel better and I had to assume that it worked because he smiled and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, go preach somewhere else, Frank'n'furter." My eyes widened and I laughed.

"Yay, you got the reference!" I exclaimed and he laughed, too.

"'Course. _Rocky Horror_'s boss, man." I felt my cheeks flush a little and I smiled, turning away and going to my stereo to change the CD. I felt like Bowie melodies were too… Wrong for this kind of a situation. That was sensual music for a very non-sensual environment. But… maybe… No. I slipped a different CD into the drive, changing it to the seventh song before hearing familiar riffs. I smiled, turning and looking over at Tommy, who was sitting, wide eyed, and staring at the stereo.

"_Whole Lotta Love_? Best song ever!" He was nearly shouting and I grinned, chuckling. True, it was still staying with the sexual vibe but at least it wasn't soft. I wasn't trying to seduce Tommy. Just wanted to be his friend, show that we had something in common with one another.

"Boys?" We turned and looked over at my mom, Leila, who was standing in the door way, her hand propped against the frame. I smiled a little at her.

"Hey, Mom." I said. She smiled back.

"I'm making dinner at seven. Are you boys planning anything until then?" She asked and I glanced over at Tommy. He was still probably hoping to go to the movies. To be honest, I kind of liked the idea myself.

"Well, Tommy and I were gonna go to the movies at some point tonight, but I don't know when." I told her. She nodded once, smiling.

"After dinner, alright?" She suggested and I looked over to Tommy. He nodded once and I smiled.

"Sounds like a plan." Mom chuckled and pushed off from the frame, starting to turn away.

"Keep it down, though. Your brother is doing his homework, and, should you decide to be smart, you'd better work on yours, too." She said before walking away and heading down stairs. I shook my head a little, smiling to myself before catching Tommy's eye. He looked curious.

"You have a brother?" He asked, and I laughed.

"Yeah. Neil. He's a few years younger than us, though." I said, going back to the bed and sitting down next to Tommy. He nodded once, his hands fidgeting slowly in his lap. I looked down at them for a moment, remembering his calluses. "You play?" I asked.

He looked up at me, pondering for a moment before nodding once. "Yeah, guitar. Do you?" He asked? I shook my head. I'd always wanted to but never really got around to taking the time to learn. I'd always spent my time with singing… Singing.

I flashed back to earlier today, when I sang to him in the nurse's office. I smiled slightly to myself. I doubted that he'd ever know about that, considering he was asleep. But… If he had known that I had, then… What would he have thought? My singing _Insatiable _to him? He'd probably just think of me as a fag and nothing more. I swallowed the lump in my throat before realizing that Tommy was waving his hand in front of my face.

"Earth to Adam." He said under a soft laugh. I smiled, shaking my head a little. "Jesus, dude, you were spacing for like five minutes." He said and I rolled my eyes.

"Oh whatever. I doubt it was that long." I retorted with a smile pulling at my lips. It was strange… Being around him left me unaware that I had braces and that I was a nerd… I felt… Normal…

"Well, you're wrong, cause you were out like a space cadet." I shook my head again, punching his shoulder gently. Who am I kidding? He's a popular kid, good looking as fuck and incredibly awesome. I'm just a nerd… With braces… In theatre…


	10. There's Nothing You Can Sing

**Chapter Ten: There's Nothing You Can Sing That Can't Be Sung... Wait, I Lied.  
Tommy's POV**

Last night's party was... A good one. I'd promised Adam I wouldn't get drunk at parties anymore like I had last week, and I didn't. But I still had to give into some temptation and natural desire, given I wouldn't be getting majorly drunk anymore. And I definitely couldn't deny that it was a hella lot easier to walk through school sober, not to mention to talk to Adam. A measly half glass of vodka wouldn't get me drunk, anyway.

I still didn't sit with Adam all the time during lunch. Most of the time, Longineu or Monte pulled me to their table before I could even think about changing my mind. I always looked over my shoulder at him, seeing him engrossed in _Wicked._ He must have read that book five times in the past three weeks. Was it _really_ that interesting? As far as I could tell, it was just about some green witch... But what did I know? I'd just have to ask him to borrow it, I guess.

I knew he missed me, you didn't have to be Elliot Stabler to figure that out. But he was trying his best to hide it. Don't ask why, I was still trying to figure that out myself. On a side note, Mia was starting to get less and less animate with our daily speaking. I mean, not the whole time. At first, we just talked about... I'm not even sure about what, but we talked, and it's nice. But after a while, she just kinda... Fades. Her voice is there, but her mind is somewhere else, off in La La Land. Hey, don't get me wrong, La La Land's a great place; I spend a lot of time there, especially during Math. But it was nice to talk to Mia when she was actually _listening_. The funny thing was that she left me for La La Land a couple of minutes after I bring Adam up. Well, yeah, I talk a lot about him, but how can I not?

My hands were shoved deep into the pockets of my striped hoodie (the hood up, naturally). There's really no use in describing the rest of my outfit; dark skinny jeans around my lack-of hips and thighs, beaten up Con's, and a bit of smudged eyeliner around my eyes. Everyday attire. I had, what, eight pairs of skinnys? Only thing that changes every day is the jeans and shirt and-slash-or sweater (and briefs, if I chose to wear any that day. What? Have you tried wearing skin tight jeans with any article of clothing underneath? It's _seriously_ uncomfortable with tight jeans, what with them rising up my ass every two fucking seconds).

I trudged along the mostly empty hallways, my mind fixated on the week before. I smirked to myself. It was quite an interesting night. By the time we'd had spaghetti with meatballs- the real shit, not out of a fucking can, compliments of his mother, which was equally as great of a cook as my own- I was my old self and better, all traces of booze gone. Well, except for my clothes that had still reeked of it, but besides that- completely replenished with energy.

A smirk tugged at my lips as I remembered the rest of the night. The movies? Yeah- total disaster. There were maybe three other people in the entire theater, and we sat in the very back. I wasn't even sure of the movie's title. All I knew was that it was horror (duh, wouldn't have it any other way), and Adam looked less than pleased when he said that he was fine with it. Every time some dude's head flew off, his hand twitched, slightly, towards me. And it happened pretty damn often. It was cute, really, but I couldn't understand why he said he was okay with it if, clearly, he wasn't. Eventually, the time came to the eighty fifth spasm, and I stopped his hand mid-twitch. He'd turned his head towards me, his face paler than usual, the lights from the screen not making him look any less sickly.

I'd laughed just as another head flew off, and even though his face was towards me, I guessed he could see it from his peripheral vision, because his hand twitched in mine. "Adam, it's just a fucking movie. It's not real." But he seemed less concerned with the 'realness' of it, and more focused on blood spewing from the recent victim's neck. "If you don't like horror, why the Hell am I sitting here instead of watching some ooey-gooey lovey-dovey story instead? I would have suffered through it, but it doesn't look like you can suffer through _this_." I motioned towards the screen with my head. He gave me a weak smile and closed his eyes for a minute.

"And worst had come to worst, you could've just taken my hand." His eyes immediately shot open, and he stared me dead in the eyes before speaking.

"I'm not some damn pansy, Tommy. I don't need Mommy holding my hand," he muttered, jerking his hand away from mine. I blinked a few times, attempting to figure out what he'd gotten upset about. I was only trying to help, wasn't I? It's not my fucking fault he said he was fine if he wasn't! I just shook my head and turned my attention back to the screen. Another head, another twitch. I chuckled loudly, bringing my hand to my hair and shuffling it about. He groaned, sinking lower in his chair, putting the right side of his face in the palm of his hand. My thoughts lingered on the earlier times of the day, and I leaned towards him.

"I heard you singing, you know." I whispered. His face was unreadable. It held no emotion. After a few moments of awkward silence- except for... Well, the bombs in the movie- he turned towards me again, his hand slipping from his cheek.

"Singing?" He asked, his eyebrows pulled together and his lips slightly parted, showing off a bit of the metal. His glasses shadowed the creases of his eyes, casting his cerulean eyes with a dark look to them.

I nodded. "When I was in the nurses office. You came in, like, before History. I heard you." I offered a smile, but he only shook his head.

"Yeah, I _did_ come in before History, but I didn't sing. You were practically knocked out unconscious. What are you imagining up there, in your little world, Tommy?" He scoffed and ripped his gaze away from me. It was my turn to be confused. He didn't sing to me...? Was I really imagining it? But I wasn't really asleep... It was so real, so in-the-now. Maybe I really was sleeping, and was just dreaming...

I was suddenly snapped back into reality, just as I passed the music room. The only reason I knew it was the music room was because I had band in there, otherwise I would've just thought it a classroom, not even knowing that it held beautiful instruments that gave off just as equally beautiful music. What I heard was muffled, because my hood was hugging my ears. My eyebrows pulled together as I stopped walking, staring straight down the hallway at nothing in particular. I took a step back and another one to right, placing my left hand on the middle of the door and pressing my ear to the door of the music room.

There were no windows on the door, and it was shut, but I still heard it clearly, even through my hood. A rock-and-roll of a voice was streaming through the edges of the door, filled with magnificence and pure passion. Whoever was singing was singing something by Aerosmith, but the name of e song escaped my mind because I was way too fixated on the voice filling my ears. It didn't sound like there were any instruments playing; he was singing a cappella. My mouth hung wide open as the song seemed to never stop, and I was disappointed when it did.

Who held such a voice? I'd never heard anything like it. The hand that was resting on the wood of the door curled into a fist, and I knocked lightly, waiting for a response. For a moment, there was utter silence. I knocked again, but this time there was shuffling and shoes slapping against the linoleum floor. Ah, trying to run away? I don't fucking think so!

I gripped the knob in my hand and threw the door open as fast as I could, and was greeted with papers flying around the entire room. I blinked a few times, trying to make sense of it. The papers settled to the ground, and all there was, was... Nothing. Nobody was there. My eyes dated to different sides of the room, but there was the same nothing. My hand uncurled from around the knob and I took a few steps forward, almost slipping on a couple of the papers in the way. I walked down the three steps that led to the main floor of the room, and looked around again. The same damn emptiness.

Could he be hiding behind the instruments? No, they're too small for a person to hide behind... Even my guitar, sitting in the corner. He probably went out the second way of the band room... Fuck, what was that second door for, anyway?

"Hello?" I called out, just in case I was missing something. "Is anybody in here?" Silence. I suddenly felt like an idiot, standing in the middle of the band room, all alone. I grumbled something to myself, clutched my messenger bag closer to my leg, and stormed out of the room the same way I'd gone in.

As I closed the door behind me, a couple of really tall, beefy guys, that were well acquainted with my fist and rough voice, were passing by, giving me dirty looks. Damn, they never learn. I stuck my tongue out at them and scoffed, shaking my head as I walked down the hallway opposite of their direction. That voice was still in the back of my head, though, nagging me to find out who it was or to just go back and maybe find them there. It was so enticing. Like cinnamon. I wanted more of it; I couldn't get enough of it. I decided that the next morning, I would go back. Because what were the odds of him _not_ being there?

It really was a shame that I only had two classes with Adam out of (technically) five. I had Algebra, he had Choir. I had Band, he had Advanced Algebra. Of course, I had History and English (and sometimes lunch) with him, but on the off days, he had Theatre and I had Gym. It just wasn't enough time to be with him.

Woah, speaking of Adam, where the fuck was he? I hadn't seen him all morning. I mean... Not that I saw him _every_ morning, but... More often than not. Ah, well. I'll see him at lunch.

Maybe.


	11. The Devil's Gonna Find Me Tonight

So. I hate doing this. It feels lame. But! I strongly encourage you guys to check out mine and Hiei's new collab called "Naeemah Baniti". Seriously. It's... It's beautiful, and it's one of our favorites right now (right up there next to "Chained To You"!). I hate advertising, but I think y'all would like it. :3

Peace~!

**

* * *

Chapter Eleven: The devil's gonna find me tonight**

**Adam's POV**

I stood in the hallway on the other side of the band room, my heart pounding in my chest. My teacher usually let me come in early, most days, to just wail and let out emotion through singing. I had expected today to be no different— but someone knocked at the door. Someone had been listening. And… I don't know why I fled, but I did. I'd just barely managed to get through the other door and to safety when that person called out…

It sounded a lot like Tommy.

I shook my head, gathering my bag closer to my body before hurrying down the hall, passing the auditorium and hoping that I'd be able to wander around before having to go back to class. I didn't want to chance that person actually being Tommy and then having to hear him talk about someone he heard singing. But why was I freaking out so much? What shame was there if Tommy _did_ know I was the one who sang to him?

Well… I still wasn't entirely sure of Tommy's… sexuality. I mean, he was one of my friends, but I didn't want to jump the gun and chance freaking him the fuck out. He was, really, the only person I was remotely close to. No one else wanted to hang around a fag, why would he? I sighed, running my fingers through my hair and adjusting my glasses before getting a drink from a nearby water fountain. My heart was still going a little crazy just thinking about Tommy…

Yeah, I liked him. I couldn't help that. He was adorably funny and incredibly cute. Not to mention… his eyes did things to me. They made my stomach flip and my heart flutter. Okay, I really liked him. Probably more than I should have, because— wouldn't it just be my luck to find out that he has a girlfriend or something? Some pretty, big breasted beauty? Yeah… Come on, Tommy's first day here was spent with girls flocking him from left and right. What chance did I have?

I turned, walking back towards the music room, where my first period was. Hopefully my listener was gone and off with his own business. I tried not to think of the possibilities of it being Tommy. I mean, I wanted to tell him that, yes, I did sing to him when he was in the nurse's office, but what if he thought I was a freak because of that? Singing a song about such passionate love to another dude? I'd be labeled than more than just a fag by then.

I walked down the hall and back into the room, being the first one there again. I wanted to go back to singing, but, all the same, I didn't. I didn't want to sing again… God, why was everything so confusing and complicated? I huffed in agitation, dropping my bag by one of the chair and slouching in it, pulling out my phone. I didn't see Tommy at all this morning, and I usually make it a plan to say good morning to him… I stared at the screen of my phone before pushing it back into my pocket. Not now.

Thinking about Tommy made me think about the movies. That… Had been less than perfect, to say the least. Why did we go to some slasher movie? There were some good thrillers and comedies, but Tommy wanted slasher? And then he had the balls to say he'd suffer through something lovey and gooey instead? Okay, I may be gay as all hell, but even I have my limits with love story movies.

And yeah, taking his hand was nice, but… I didn't know. That night could have gone better. Much better. But I guess fate decided that our little hangout wasn't meant to be the most amazing thing ever. I sighed, wondering if I should just leave the music room, because, obviously, I wasn't in the best mind frame to sing choral songs and prepare for the winter concert that was coming up in less than a month. But I didn't get the opportunity to leave because students were coming in. Not to mention, my teacher had let me in to sing early. He knew I was here. Fuck!

"This is going to be a long day…" I grumbled to myself, slouching back into my seat and fiddling with my phone again.

Several weeks had passed. I still didn't hang around Tommy much. Ever since the movies, things had been… Strange between us, to say the least. Not to mention, at lunch, he'd always be dragged away by Monte and Longineu to go hang out with the cooler kids, leaving me with my copy of _Wicked_ and the strings of conversations that I had all planned out but never acted upon.

To be honest, I missed Tommy. I missed talking with him and hanging out and just being friends with somebody. I missed seeing him smile or hearing him laugh… I just… He was the only one I'd connected with, and now he was slipping from my fingers. And that hurt… I shook my head, pulling my bag over my shoulder and slipping out of my dad's car, heading into the front entrances of the school. I knew, just by the feel of the atmosphere, that it was going to be a long Friday before the weekend…

The winter choral concert was next weekend, and I had half a mind to find Tommy and invite him to come and see it. I figured if I invited him to something as harmless as a concert, then maybe this strange rift between us would be lifted and we'd be okay as friends again. It was becoming maddening, to say the least, to not be around him. I knew I shouldn't have gotten so attached, but I couldn't help it…

I licked my lips, ignoring the snide comments of the jocks that I walked past, heading towards the music room. I'd made it my plan to set my stuff down and then find Tommy before class started. He, normally, got to school ten minutes after I did. But I'd gotten here a little late, so today would be different. I sighed, my breath pluming in front of my face as I hurried into the doors of the hall that led to the music rooms and the auditorium.

I rushed into my class room, smiling to my teacher before dropping my bag. I kept my scarf and my coat on, though, as I pulled my phone out of my pocket. I kept my head down, grazing through the few messages from my parents, friends from out of state and such before opening up a new message. I was in the process of typing out a message to Tommy when I ran into someone.

It was a wonder I held onto my phone, but the smaller framed individual wasn't so lucky. He fell back onto his butt, bouncing once with his bag falling off his shoulder. It took me a moment to realize I'd just knocked Tommy flat on his ass because I'd been preoccupied with my phone. I felt my face heat up and I mumbled a soft, jumbled apology. His eyes were irritated when he looked up, but, when they locked on mine, they softened, and he smiled gently.

"Morning, Adam." He said. I chuckled, unable to speak as I reached out for his hand, pulling him to his feet. I bent down, grabbing his bag and handing it to him in silence. He nodded once, his smile still on his face. I couldn't help but stare for a moment at him. This had been the first time in weeks that we'd bumped into each other— literally— and had a moment to talk…

"Adam?" Tommy waved a hand in front of my face and I blushed, looking down at my feet before looking back up.

"Sorry… I'm tired. But… I had a question for you?" I said, biting down on my bottom lip for a moment. My heart was pounding in my chest and I knew that all I had to say was "do you wanna come to the winter concert?", but for some reason, it wasn't forming on my tongue to fall out into the open. Tommy nodded once, waiting for my question. I inhaled slowly, silently choking on my words.

"D'you wan' c'me to 'ter c'ncert?" I mumbled. Tommy raised an eyebrow, shaking his head in confusion before laughing. Oh, fuck, how embarrassing. Come on, Lambert, you're dialect is damn near flawless most days, you can do it today!

"What'd you just say?" He asked. Because of the cold air and his laugher, my cheeks flushed a brilliant red and I looked away, licking my lips before looking back at him. Rah, he was so pretty… I could've melted to my spot and been content.

"Do you wanna come to the winter concert?" I asked after taking a breath, "It's next weekend…" I finished. Tommy blinked once, before smiling brightly up at me. His eyes shined in the light of the morning and he laughed again.

"Sure. What time." My heart slammed into the cage of my ribs and I felt my knees tremble. The hard part was over, and he wanted to come see the show. Oh, thank Rah! I smiled, chuckling lightly before telling him the show was at seven. He was about to walk away when I reached for him, grabbing his arm. He turned his head back to me, frowning slightly.

"Wanna… Hang out after school… Today?" I asked. Tommy chuckled, nodding once. I grinned, letting go of his arm and watching him walk to his class. It felt as if a great weight had been lifted off of my shoulders, and I sighed happily before turning towards the doors, walking into the hallway again. I would've started skipping, but there were too many people walking around and I didn't want to bring any unnecessary attention to myself.

I pulled open the doors of the music room, slipping inside and hurrying over to my bag. I tugged my jacket and my scarf off, letting them drape over my chair. I was wearing a pair of charcoal colored skinny jeans, leather, ankle boots with studs on them, a studded belt, and a black button up shirt over a grey one, the sleeves rolled up around my elbows. Swift, thin lines of liner around my eyes and my glasses perched on the bridge of my nose. Despite my glasses and braces, I felt pretty cool today.

I walked over to the piano, sifting through the sheet music, seeing what we were going to be working on for today. Holiday songs and Silent Night. Awesome. I was about to turn and walk back to my chair when the door clicked open and I lifted my head, seeing someone walk in. My heart punched up into my throat for a moment and I couldn't stop the stare.

He was not Tommy with beauty, but that didn't mean he was handsome. Short, brown hair that curled around his ears and was spiked up out of his eyes just a touch. Strong, sharp cheekbones and startling blue eyes. His skin had a soft, brown tan to them, despite this being the middle of winter. He was wearing a pair of burnt red skinny jeans and a black t-shirt, a chain looped through the belt loops of his pants. The links jingled as he walked.

He smirked at me, looking away before handing a piece of paper to the teacher. He turned on his heel, glancing at me and winking before leaving the room. I'd seen him around before, but I couldn't remember his name. So why was some stranger throwing winks at me— a nerd? I swallowed the lump in my throat, licking my dry lips and returning to my seat.


	12. I'm Suffocating Under Words Of Sorrow

**Chapter Twelve: I'm Suffocating (Under Words of Sorrow)  
Tommy's POV**

I never saw him.

In the two weeks that passed, and my sitting near the door continued, listening to him wail in the band room, I never saw him. When he would be done, I simply left to go to my first period class. He never came out, and I didn't even dare to knock or open the door. I just sat and listened, tapping my fingers and feet to his beat. Sometimes, I got inspired and pulled out my notebook to write a few chords and lyrics, although I didn't think they were worth shit.

That morning was different, though. I didn't hear the usual rock and roll or the sweet sound coming from inside the room. Sure, I was disappointed and upset, but what could I do? Go inside the room and demand the ghost of all things mighty to make him come in there? Right, that's what I'd spend my time doing.

But I wasn't too upset for long. I hadn't seen Adam in a long time. We'd, usually, just see each other in the morning, and that was all. Every time I started towards his direction in the lunch room, Monte or Longineu- quite literally, at times- dragged me to their table. He'd still read _Wicked_ every day, and I found it cute that he was so attached to a book, and I kind of felt like it was his savior when I wasn't there.

I mean... That made it sound like I was all he thought about. I'm sure he didn't. He's a teenage boy, for Christ's sake. He has tons of other things washing around his mind besides some small, blonde, problematic kid. Unless I meant something more to him than just a small, blonde, problematic kid... Doubtful.

The day, all in all, had been pretty uneventful, except for when Adam asked me if I wanted to go to the Winter choral concert and to come over after school. I couldn't believe he even had to ask- Of-fucking-_course_ I would go to the concert. But when he asked me the first time, it sounded like a fish had been shoved down his throat. It was hard not to laugh, especially with that image in mind. When he asked me again and I understood, I felt my heart beat a little faster. I couldn't explain it. It just did. Maybe it was just because he looked do damn adorable while trying to build the confidence to choke the words out.

Most of the day, I'd been spacing in and out during all of my classes. I just couldn't stay focused; it was kind of a gloomier day. But when I wasn't off in La La Land, I could see jocks staring at me and chuckling to themselves. I paid no mind to it. Let them fucking laugh if they want, right? What did I care? They're just brainless idiots with time on their hands.

Time came to my last period class, and it was gym. It's not that I didn't like it, but I didn't hate it, either. I liked going to the weight room, because it was probably the best exercise for me, but we didn't always go there, and I got pretty peeved. They were stealing my muscles away from me, God dammit, obviously I'm going to be pissed.

But luckily, we did go to the weight rooms that day. I won't go into too much detail, but by the end of class, you could say I felt renewed and pumped. Blood was running through course veins and sweat was running from my hair and down the back of my neck, and then some down my chest and back. There was a bench running through the middle of each row of lockers in the room underneath the gym, but I refused to sit on it. I mean, seriously? How many guys had sat on that bench butt naked?

I let out a sigh as I peeled away my sweat stained gym shirt, nothing more than an old, gray t-shirt, and threw it back into my locker, retreating my Axe from my bag. Honestly? That shit smelled disgusting and way too overpowering after the first few minutes of putting it on, especially when twenty-something other guys were putting it on at the same time, but after a while, it was orgasmic.

I'd just reached inside to grab my shirt when I saw them; the four jocks that had been giving me funny looks all day. Ha. I sound like a girl on her period- Whining because people looked at her funny. Not that I would know... Or anything...

But even then, they were giving me weird looks and laughing amongst themselves, and it was creeping me out. Each and every one of them gave off a horrible vibe, and I shivered a little just from being in their presence. They weren't the stereotypical jocks, with jackets with the school logo on them or anything like that. They didn't have buzz cuts, and or even intimidating looks. They were... Average, but with a little more muscle and height to them.

One of them (I couldn't remember his name... Sam, maybe? No idea), walked- wait, make that _strut_- over to me as I pulled my shirt over my head, flattening it out against my stomach. I looked up at him, and back down at my already-jean-covered legs,buttoning them before trying to work the zipper. I kept my eyes down, but still saw him lean against the locker next to me, only a foot away from me.

"Can I help you?" I muttered, fighting against the zipper. God dammit... My fingers fumbeled around the fly for a few more moments before I finally swiftly pulled it up. Ha! Victory! But I wasn't feeling very victorious, because two more jocks were lurking their way towards me. My eyes darted towards them, then back to the one that was originally there. He smirked, and brought his fist up, bumping it against my upper arm.

"You're a pretty cool kid," he snickered, but there was something about his tone that I didn't like. Almost seeming like it was laced with impatience. Impatience? Impatience for what? I swallowed a lump in my throat, and turned my attention back to my locker, reaching in and grabbing my black sweater.

"Thanks..." I mumbled as I pulled my arms through the sleeves, repositioning it on my body before starting to zipper it up.

"So why do you hang out with that fag?" He asked. I stopped mid-zipper, and looked up at him. I hang out with a fag? Not that I knew of. His eyes were somewhat glazed over, and there was a fierce fire burning from him. A coil tightened in my stomach and I continued zippering the sweater.

"Beg pardon-?" But I barely finished my sentence before his fist lunged forward and into my gut. I keeled over, grasping my stomach and wheezing a little. What the fuck? I didn't even get time to adjust before the other two grabbed either side of my arms and pinned me against a nearby wall, my head thudding against it. My eyes swirled around a little bit in my head and I groaned, wanting to rub my head. I squeezed my eyes shut as I heard the last guy running over to where I was. It was only my best luck that everyone had already left. Awesome. I have an awesome life.

The other guy's fist collided with my nose, rather harshly, and I groaned, leaning my head to the side. It stung.. And I instantly felt the flow of blood. I sniffed a little bit and looked back up, trying to look at them clearly but I wasn't allowed that. The first guy's knee came up and into my groin, going back down before bringing it back up and into my stomach. I coughed loudly and leaned over a little bit; I was restricted of doing any further.

The same process repeated over and over again; fist to the gut, fist to the nose, and knee to the gut. I guess they thought that my balls should only be hit once. What fucking considerate men... Every time, I felt myself unwinding and splitting at the seams. Blood was starting to form in my mouth, and I was coughing like I had been smoking on a cancer stick every day of my life since I was born. My lungs hurt, my head hurt, and everything was starting to go blurry.

It seemed to stop for a minute, but with every deepening breath I took, I felt like they were still punching me. One of them leaned closer to my ear, and I wanted to spit my blood onto him. "You're just as much a faggot as he is," he seethed, and then kneed me, harder than the other times, in the gut again. I wheezed loudly and choked on my own breath, hanging my head so my hair fell over my face. Fucking... Assholes...

My head was spinning, and metallic liquid kept forming in my mouth and coming from my nose. They all laughed obnoxiously before the two that were holding me let me go, and I fell forward, half relieved, but that was before I realized I hadn't fallen onto the ground, but that my stomach landed right against the bench. Blood dripped onto the floor and into my hair, and when I tried to open my eyes, I decided it would be better if I closed them again. I heard their footsteps echoing away, along with their laughter, as I continued to wheeze and gasp for breath.

Phone. I needed my phone. I needed to call someone, or I would die here. But who to call? _Who_ to fucking _call_?

Adam.

I tried to push myself up and off the bench, but failed miserably and only ended up falling back against it and feeling like something snapped in my rib cage. I moaned to myself and bit down on my bloody bottom lip. Fuck, it hurt so much. I felt like there was a knife stuck through me and I couldn't get it out. Instead of risking to fall on that knife again, I just reached my arm up, hoping that I could reach my locker.

But I couldn't. I couldn't fucking reach it. I palmed the locker beneath mine, and whined as I continued, effortlessly, to get my hand to my locker. When I finally understood that I wasn't going to reach it, I slid it back down the lockers, sure that I was smearing my blood all over them. I felt like someone suddenly lit a match in my head, and then instantly blew it out, because my body went slack against the bench and I fell backwards, against the floor, taking deep breaths and trying to move again.

I was slowly slipping out of my state of some-what consciousness, but forced myself back into it. The floor was vibrating underneath my head, and I heard it clearly in my ears. The shoes continued to shuffle down the hallway, and they grew louder and faster.

"Tommy?" They called out, but it was faint, even though I knew they were near. "Tommy?" They called again. I wished I could answer. Moan, whine, groan, _something_, but I just couldn't force it out. Suddenly the steps stopped, and I heard a soft gasp. And then I was too far gone. The last thing I felt were strong hands gripping my shoulders, and placing my back against a locker.

"Ad... dam..." I finally mumbled quietly, feeling the pressure from my stomach easing a little bit.

"Shh, shh, Tommy, shh," he whispered, stroking my hair out of my face. It felt nice, and my head lolled to the side a little bit, into his touch. I grumbled incoherent thoughts, and black was dancing around my vision.

And then I was out.


	13. When I Feel That Something

**Chapter Thirteen: When I feel that something, I wanna hold your hand…**

**Adam's POV**

The school day dragged on unbearably slow. All I could think about was Tommy and the fact that I was really, really looking forward to spending time with him after school. Not to mention, I was ecstatic that he was coming to the winter choral concert next weekend. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'd been nervous as fuck trying to spill the words to ask him (and ended up sounding like I had a frog lodged in my throat), but I got it out. Sort of.

I knew that I should've paid more attention to my classes, especially in Theatre. But I just couldn't concentrate. I couldn't think about anything else other than Tommy. And I guess that was because I had a crush on him— how could I not? He was adorable, funny, charming, gorgeous beyond belief… It may've been creepy, but I found his hands incredibly attractive, too… They were thin, elegant with well-toned fingers and, like, the most perfect nails ever.

Okay, yeah, I know, it's weird, but what could I say? These were the little things I noticed when we were in English and History, and on the off-chance that I got to see him at lunch and before school. Like… The way he tucked his hair behind his ear or looked away when he was embarrassed…

I shook my head, pulling my bag closer to myself as I walked down the halls. I'd told Tommy to meet me at the front of the school after class got out. I had to run by my locker, first, but my heart was pounding in my chest to go and see him. I just.. I hadn't really gotten the chance to hang out with him much since the failed attempt at the movies and then, briefly, this morning. I wanted to hang out with him more, I _liked_ being around him. He was just..

_Shut up, Adam. Just shut up._ I told myself, slipping through a door and heading down the locker bay. Girls gave me looks and a bunch of the jocks purposefully bumped into me, but I tried not to let it bother me. I couldn't. I had other things on my mind that were more important to me than a couple of hurtful comments and the occasional shove from someone six inches taller and twenty pounds heavier.

I reached for my locker, spinning the dial before pulling the door open. I swung my bag around, reaching into it and pulling out my unnecessary text books and setting them inside. I grabbed my History book, pushing it into my bag before shutting the door, spinning the dial once to lock it. Readjusting my bag, I headed down the hallway again, aware of all the jocks. Though, I believed, that I needed to be more aware of my thoughts than of people…

I sighed, gnawing gently on my bottom lip. No matter how much I tried, I couldn't stop… thinking about Tommy. I'd close my eyes, even for a moment, and his beautiful, deep, chocolaty eyes would be staring back at me in the darkness. I wanted to say that I was bothered by it, but I wasn't. I wasn't bothered by the fact that I was thinking about him, but I was bothered by the fear that he wasn't… Like me. That he wasn't a fag.

Normally, I hated the word. I hated being associated with it in any fashion, but it was true. I was gay. I liked boys. I was a fag. And part of my fear with liking Tommy as much as I did was that he was straight. That he would think I was a freak bent on getting into his pants. Don't get me wrong, the idea of being… intimate with Tommy was rather enticing and desirable, but it wasn't my motive. I wanted to get to know him. Wanted to spend time with him and really… Really get close to him… And, if I happened to be lucky enough that he was, in fact, like _me_, then maybe we could be more…

But I doubted it.

I pushed through the crowds of people, keeping a mental note not to bump into anyone too much or get a target painted on my back. It was bad enough that I had one for being gay, I didn't need one for causing any "unwanted" problems as well, despite the fact that everyone saw my existence as an unwanted problem, but whatever. They could go fuck themselves on their mother's dildos for all I cared.

I chuckled to myself, glancing around the courtyard and realizing I didn't see the blond anywhere in sight. I frowned softly before pushing away my negative thoughts. Perhaps his teacher had him stay behind a little late for something? But… He had gym at this period. Why would he need to stay after for gym, of all things? If it had been History, I could've understood. But it wasn't.

_Calm down, Adam. He'll be here._ I told myself, leaning against the wall of the courtyard, pretending to mess with my phone as I scanned the faces of everyone that I could catch glimpses of. People with brown hair, pale faces, dark skin, black hair, bleach-blond hair, blue eyes, green eyes, dull brown eyes… All features that didn't belong to Tommy, didn't match to Tommy. I sighed softly, checking my phone again.

It'd been ten minutes since school had gotten out and, still, there were no signs of Tommy. My dad had texted me asking me where I was, since he was here, waiting to pick me up. I flipped open my phone, typing out a message saying that I was waiting for Tommy and I would be out shortly. But I didn't know how long or short "shortly" would end up being. I tried texting Tommy, but got no response from the blond.

Maybe he decided to bail? No… Tommy seemed pretty enthusiastic to hang out, I couldn't see why he would want to bail. Besides, if he wanted to, he would have told me something rather than just leaving me in the dark. But that didn't mean that I wasn't worried about the potential aspect of him ditching, but— _Shut. Up. Adam. You're fine. He'll show up. You'll be okay._ _Stop freaking out about this and just be a little patient._

Patient. Right.

I messed with my phone some more, seeing that five minutes had passed without a word from Tommy. My dad texted me again, asking what was taking us so long. I sighed softly, looking across the courtyard again. The masses of people had thinned out some and it was easier to try and pick out any signs of the blond. But there were none, and I felt my heart grow heavier and heavier.

Ten minutes, and still no Tommy. Frowning, I pushed off of the wall, heading down the courtyard towards the gyms. Tommy hadn't come out yet and most everyone else was gone, already. What could've been taking him so long? What conversation with a teacher was more important than hanging out with me? 

Okay, that was a little vain, but I hadn't been able to hang out with Tommy at all for the past couple of weeks, and I was really looking forward to the opportunity. I didn't, exactly, like the idea of being blown off, but if he was caught up with something— or someone— I wanted to be informed.

I bit down on my lip, pulling my bag closer and shoving my phone into my pocket. I reached forward, grabbing the door that led in from the courtyard towards the gyms. What if he was caught up with someone other than a teacher? Was it just a quick chat or— no. Stop it. _Stop it, stop it, stop it!_ I had to be respectful of Tommy's personality and his choices, but that didn't mean I couldn't hope that there was some kind of a chance between the two of us, right? _Adam, you're hopeless._

Stepping into the hallway, I glanced down towards the surplus of doors. The gyms all looked dark, so I had to, at least, try the locker room. Maybe Tommy was in there? Maybe he was just taking forever or something. Inhaling slowly, I forced myself to walk down the hall towards the doors. The walls reeked of manliness and sweat and I tried my hardest not to gag, but it was just… Repulsive.

Reaching for the handle of the boy's locker room, I tugged, finding the door to be unlocked. Sighing in relief, I pulled the door open and stepped inside. "Tommy?" I called out, peering my head around the corner. I couldn't see much, but I heard something. A soft, faint groan that was weak. Perhaps in pain. I swallowed a lump in my throat, stepping forward again.

"Tommy?" I called again, walking closer, but each step was slow and cautious. That groan definitely sounded like it was in pain, and I didn't want to chance getting jumped by anyone. I may've been a fag in theatre, but that didn't mean I was very outward to violence. I would fight back if necessary, but if not, I tried to avoid it at all costs.

Turning a corner, I gasped. Tommy was slumped on the floor by the bench, groaning weakly. His nose was gently gushing blood, his face bruised. I rushed over to him, dropping my bag and pulling him away from the bench, gently pressing him into the locker. His head lolled to the side and he couldn't keep his eyes open for more than a moment at a time. His shirt was all ruffled and I wondered if there were any other marks on him.

"Ad—dam.." He groaned softly. I shushed him quietly. He looked like he was slipping in and out of consciousness. I whimpered quietly as he grumbled incoherently. I pushed his hair out of his face, his head lolling into my hands. Despite his state and my worry for him, I felt my face heat up a little bit.

"Shh, Tommy…" I whispered again before his eyes fluttered shut, his body going limp. I whimpered, shaking him a little, trying to wake him up. But he was out like a light.

Holding him up with one hand, I fumbled into my pocket, pulling out my phone and pressing my dad's speed dial. I held my phone to my ear, pushing Tommy's hair out of his face. I didn't want to leave him, but he needed to be cleaned up. There was blood on his shirt, hoodie and his pants, drying on his face. My phone buzzed in my ear before my dad picked up.

"Adam, what is taking you two so long?" My dad questioned. He was only annoyed that we were taking so long, but at the moment I didn't give a damn.

"Dad, Tommy's been beaten up. Can you come help me carry him to the car? We're in the boy's locker room." My dad cursed before telling me that he would be right in before hanging up. I snapped my phone closed, setting it down before positioning Tommy in a way that he wouldn't fall over if I let go of him.

Pulling away, I stood and hurried over to the sinks, running water as I grabbed paper towels, getting them wet before ringing them out, leaving them damp. Shutting off the water, I rushed back to Tommy, kneeling down next to him and wiping his face clean as best I could before holding a towel to his nose to stop the bleeding. I kept gnawing on my lip, wondering whether or not it was a bad thing that he'd passed out…

Was I supposed to try and wake him up? Was I supposed to let him just sleep? I pulled the towel away from his nose and leaned in close, listening for— he was breathing. Deeply, actually. He might've passed out, sure, but he didn't seem to be in any immediate danger. I sighed in relief, checking his nose to see if the bleeding had stopped any. It had.

I set the moist, bloody towels down on the bench before looking back over at Tommy. Why would he've gotten beaten up? What did he do wrong to deserve such a brutal assault? Nothing was making any sense and there were only two things running through my mind upon staring at his relaxed, yet, bruised face: one; if I found out who did this to him, I was going to be sure that they paid for hurting him. Two; his lips looked beautiful…

_No, Adam. Don't you dare._

But… Just… What would it be like? To kiss someone?

_Not like this. Don't do it like this. Besides, what if he wakes up? As it is, he already suspects you for singing to him— singing a rather emotional and passionate song, no less. Don't give him reason to end up hating you…_ I bit down on my bottom lip, glancing over my shoulder, but I didn't hear or see anything. There was no harm in one little peck, was there? Just one little thing for myself? To know what it was like to kiss someone else's lips?

_Don't, Adam._ But— it wasn't fair… He wouldn't have to know… And his lips looked so soft… _No, Adam. Don't_. Just one? I leaned closer, eyeing Tommy's face cautiously, for any signs of stirring. But there were none. He was still.

_Stop it_. One won't hurt. Closer still. My eyes were sliding shut slowly and I could feel his breath ghosting against my own lips. My heart was racing in my chest like lightening speed and ever inch closer it pounded harder and harder.

_Adam, don't!_ I could feel the heat of his mouth, my lower lip barely grazing his. I inched closer, my top lip connecting with his. True to my assumption, his lips were soft. Incredibly warm. I moaned gently, tingling sensations running down my spine, arms and legs.

_Stop!_

There was a clang of a door and I drew back from Tommy's lips, my heart stuttering in my chest and I felt my cheeks flame with a blush. I looked over my shoulder to see my dad coming in, his eyes wavering between mine and Tommy's limp form. Part of me felt bad that I.. kissed him. Though, I wasn't sure if I could really call it one. To me, a kiss meant effort on both parts. This… I didn't know what to call what I'd just done, but it left me feeling guilty.

What if Tommy wasn't gay? Or even partially bisexual? What if I'd just stolen my first "kiss" from an unconscious, straight kid? My heart pounded in my chest as my dad helped me lift Tommy to his feet. I held one of Tommy's arms over my shoulder, he held Tommy's other. I wrapped an arm around the blond's waist, reaching up and taking his hand in mine by my shoulder.

Fuck, I was a horrible person. Stealing a peck on the lips and now I was holding his hand? All the things I'd dreamed about doing with a guy I liked, and here I was, holding and kissing a guy that I liked, yet he was unconscious and, potentially, straighter than a stick. Great.

My dad and I carried Tommy to the car, pushing him into the backseat. I climbed in beside Tommy, holding him against me with his head on my shoulder as we drove. The car ride, itself, was silent, but it was not awkward in the least. My dad knew me well enough that, when I got into this mood, I wasn't into talking. I couldn't really explain it, but he'd told me once that he could tell by the withdrawn look on my face that, sometimes, I wasn't up for a conversation.

I stared out at the passing city and streets, holding Tommy as close to me as I could without raising any suspicion from my dad in the front seat. I'd never really told my parents that I was gay, but I figured they suspected it. I mean, come on, it wasn't hard. I never brought home girls and I dressed more fabulously than most of the girls at my school. Well, okay. Not all of my wardrobe consisted of fabulous clothing. But I had a few pieces here and there.

In no time, my dad pulled into the driveway of our house. He killed the engine before helping me pull Tommy from the back seat and into the house. My mother was still at work, and I could hear Neil upstairs in his room. Despite his small size, Tommy was rather heavy and carrying him up the stairs proved to be a little harder than we originally anticipated, but we managed. My dad helped me take Tommy to my room and we laid him down on the bed.

"Thanks, Dad," I muttered softly and he nodded, leaving to go back downstairs. I flopped down at my desk chair, staring over at Tommy's sleeping form. I had no idea when he was going to wake up, but, somehow, I found myself not really minding in the least. Watching Tommy sleep was, sure, kinda creepy on my behalf, but he looked beautiful. He looked at peace…

I stood from my chair, crossing over to my wardrobe. I pulled out a fresh shirt and jacket. I didn't have any pants that would fit Tommy, so he'd have to deal with the few blood stains that were on his thigh. Fortunately, his jeans were dark enough that you couldn't really tell they were there at first. But his shirt and hoodie needed to be washed and, since my mom was an expert at getting stains out of clothing, I was sure she wouldn't mind helping to get them out.

I turned back towards my bed, setting the clothes down on the edge before sitting down at my chair again. Tommy hadn't budged once. I wondered when he would. But I couldn't worry about that, though. I had to just let him sleep it out. He would wake up on his own time, and, until then, I needed something else to occupy my time.

"Adam?" I heard Neil's voice, and I turned, seeing him standing in my doorway with his eyes locked on Tommy. I sighed softly, running fingers through my hair before pushing my glasses up my nose.

"What, Neil?" I asked. I really didn't want to deal with him, but I knew there was no avoiding it, to be honest.

"Why's he passed out on your bed? Did you, like, rape him or something?" Anger flared in my chest and I had to refrain from running over and strangling the shit out of my little brother. Instead, I sighed again, my hands curling into fists on my lap as I glared at him.

"No. He got beat up at school. Please, Neil, leave." I told him, motioning with my hand to shoo him out of the door, but he stayed put. Actually, he came further into my room, and if Tommy hadn't been there, I would've started yelling at him. He knew better than to come into my room. Little fucker.

"I thought he was man enough to take care of himself, though? He looks tough enough to do it," he huffed, almost sounding disappointed that Tommy had gotten beaten up. I stood from my chair, walking over to Neil and grabbing his shoulder, steering him around and pushing him out of my door.

"Maybe he got ganged up on, Neil. Please, leave my room so Tommy can get some rest and I can do my homework," I hissed, shoving him again and closing my door. I sighed softly, turning my head to see Tommy's hands rubbing his eyes as he started to sit up. My heart fluttered and my stomach filled with worry that I had disturbed him…

"Adam?" He questioned, looking over at me. I tried not to melt into a pool of goo by the way he said my name, and instead I walked over to him, sitting on the bed beside him, "How did I get here?" He asked and I chuckled.

"My dad and I brought you here. I found you in the locker room and I told him to come help me…" I said quietly, remembering the clothes. I turned, grabbing them and holding them out to him. "None of my pants will fit you, but I figured you might want a clean shirt and hoodie until my mom can wash yours?" I suggested. Tommy's eyes softened slightly and he smiled at me, taking the clothes.

"She doesn't have too—" he began, but I shook my head, feeling a light blush spread across my face.

"She's the Stain-Removal-Master. It wouldn't be problem for her." I told him, and he nodded once, looking away.

He was silent for a long moment, and I could see in his eyes that there was something on his mind. Something that he, maybe, wanted to say or ask me. I tilted my head to the side, blinking once before reaching over and touching his knee gently. He looked over at me, seeming to realize where he was after a moment, "You okay?" I ask him, chuckling.

Tommy blinked again, looking away for a second, "Y-yeah… I just…" He sighed, licking his lips before turning towards me, holding the clothes against his chest, "I… I need to ask you something. And, please, don't take this the wrong way, I just… I need to know… It was something the guys in the locker room brought up and it's been nagging me since then and—" I smiled, reaching over and touching his knee again. He stopped and stared at me.

"Just spit it out, man." I said with a laugh and he chuckled, nervously, looking away.

"Well, I just… I wanted to know if you.. If you were, like… I don't mean this disrespectfully if you _are_, because it's totally cool if you are, but… I just… I need to know if you're a.. If you're.. Fuck, why is this so hard? Adam, are you… Shit.."

"Am I, what, Tommy?" I questioned, a soft hiss underlying my tone. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak, but I didn't let him get a word out, "A fag? A cocksucker? An assfucker, Tommy? Is that what you wanted to ask me? If I'm queer?" I snarled, trying not to get angry. I had no right to get angry, really. He was asking an honest question. But that didn't stop the tint of red filming itself over my eyes.

"Yes— no! Well, I mean, yes, b-but that's not how I was going to say it, I… Fuck." He buried his face into his hands and my expression softened.. Great, I blew up at him for no reason. _Fuck!_

I sighed softly, "Look, I'm sorry for snapping… It's just.. People at school give me shit about it on a daily basis and I just assumed everyone knew, or something.." I told him, feeling my face heating up. I'd never truly admitted it to anyone that I was gay, and here I was, telling the guy _I liked_ that I was gay. Awesome.

Tommy looked up from his hands, his eyes soft and caring. "Well.. I mean, it's you… They should respect that.. You don't give them shit for being them, it's not fair that they have to do it to you. I mean, it's.. It's _cool_ that you're willing to be yourself. To be open," he said with a smile. I stared at him for a moment, before smiling back at him.

I couldn't help liking him. He was just perfect.


	14. What A Beautiful Mess This Is

**Chapter Fourteen: What A Beautiful Mess This Is  
Tommy's POV**

"Sir?"

My eyes snapped back to the man shoving a booklet into my chest with an eyebrow raised. I looked back up at the stage for a moment before looking back at the aging man with glasses that were slipping down his nose. "Huh?" He pursed his lips and glared at me, obviously annoyed, sighing deeply.

"Would you like a pamphlet?" He grumbled. I blinked a few times in the darkness and looked down at the small stack of papers in front of me with a few beautifully painted snowflakes on a dark blue sky on them.

"I, uh... No. No, thanks," I muttered, smiling half-assly before turning away and strolling towards the middle rows of the built in chairs. They were like most auditoriums, with ugly, dark red chairs, the texture of them resembling carpeting. But, at least, they weren't stained and looked as if they were actually cleaned once in a while. I slumped down into the last chair at the row, sighing and clearing my throat just out of habit. There was still a little bit of bruising around my nose and eye from the events of last week, but they weren't that noticeable anymore, and even the pain in my ribs was going away. Pushing those thoughts to the back of my mind, I stared back up at the stage.

There were murals all around the back of the stage, the same snowflakes that were on the pamphlet on them except ten times larger and ten times the detail and beauty. Different blues swirled around each other behind them, with hints of light and dark grays. A black silhouette of a girl with hair down to her shoulders and, what seemed to be, a Santa hat on her head was painted near one of the bigger snowflakes.

My expression was the same as when the man was trying to get my attention; dropped jaw and utter awe. I couldn't rip my eyes away from it. It was naturally beautiful, and I didn't even _want_ to look away. That is, until a different silhouette crept up behind me. I turned around and smiled softly at the tiny-framed boy looming over me. His eyes were transfixed on the stage, as well, with his lips pursed into a tight line and his arms crossed over his chest.

"See that tiny snowflake in the corner over there?" A soft voice muddled. I peered to my right again to see the curly-haired boy pointed to the stage. His curls were a perfect shade of russet brown, his beryl eyes piercing with slightly dark edges to them. His curls were calmed some with gel that slicked back and around his head. An orange and gray plaid shirt clung to his minuscule frame, extenuating his forearm muscles. Burnt orange skinnys seemed to be glued to his legs, his phone bulging from the pocket. I had to blink a few times to understand if he was real. I mean... He was _gorgeous_. Ridiculously so...

My eyes followed his finger to the stage, looking at the top right corner he was pointing to, but there was no snowflake there. Not that I could see, anyway. I squinted and leaned forward in my chair, hoping it would help with whatever I was attempting to see. Still nothing. "Uh... I'm sorry, I don't see-" Before I could finish speaking, the curtain shifted for half a second, and I caught a glimpse of a tiny, elegant snowflake beneath it. "Oh. Yeah, it's right there, behind the curtain," I mumbled.

He nodded, and I watched as he shifted from one foot to the other, crossing his hand back over his chest and with the other. "That was a bitch to paint, and nobody's even gonna see it." He blew raspberries with his lips, his mouth turning downwards ever so slightly after. My eyes widened at his words.

"You... You painted that? All of it?" I questioned, trying to restrict my voice from reaching higher octaves. He gave me a double take, and when his eyes landed on my face, I thought I would melt right where I was. The dark edges of his eyes weren't there anymore, but instead replaced by soft, big, baby blue eyes.

He smiled warmly and chuckled a little bit, a blush fanning over his tanned cheeks. "Yeah. Yeah, I did. Took a month, counting the need for supplies plus lack of time I was allowed to work on it." He smiled again, one side of his mouth turning a little higher than the other. But it was... Cute, I guess.

He unfolded his hands from each other again and put one out in front if him, waiting. "Drake," he informed. I grinned and grasped his hand in mine, feeling the pads of his fingers hard against my palm. Now I could tell he was an artist...

I gave him one, good, hard shake before saying, "Tommy," and pulling my hand free from his. He opened his mouth to say something, but someone from the stage called his name, motioning with their curling finger for him to come over. He smiled apologetically in my direction and pattered away towards the person. I watched as he scampered away, his hair bouncing out of the gel's hold. I chuckled to myself and placed my head in my hand, leaning against the arm rest.

As soon as I saw him scamper away the way he did, only one question lingered on my mind: is he gay? It was probably bad that that was the first and only thing that popped into my head, but I couldn't help it. He radiated 'gay'. It flew off of him in strands of rainbow ribbons. I wasn't sure, but I still had to ponder it. Is that how everyone viewed Adam...?

I really felt bad for him. People gave him disgusting looks and snarled at him just because he looked gay. Is that how society works? You get pushed out of the human civilization if you're gay? What made it even more upsetting is that he thought of it that way, too. The way he snarled those hate-filled words when I asked him... _A fag? A cocksucker? An assfucker, Tommy?_ It sent chills down my spine then, and even now, thinking about it. It wasn't my fault I didn't know how to spit the simple words "Are you gay?" out! I'd been trying so hard, and my efforts fell flat when I needed them.

I felt like a horrible person for it. It wasn't a big deal, so he's gay, whoopee. But, for reasons I'll never understand, my tongue wouldn't form around the words. And then that bullshit about how people should respect him for who he is...

Who am I, Oprah?

_'Is that what you wanted to ask me? If I'm queer?'_

I shuddered a little at the words that kept replaying in my head. They were just... So cold. I'd never heard his tone like that before...

I was pulled out of my thoughts as the lights above the stage were cast upon the stands on the stage. They were all dressed in neat clothing, boys in button up shirts with ties and slacks and girls in delicate dresses that flowed down to their knees. There were about thirty of them all together, I guessed, just seniors. I smiled to myself as my eyes landed on Adam at the very top right, his head close to the snowflake that was behind the curtain.

He was wearing a navy blue button up shirt, with a pearly white tie. His hair was slicked back a little, and his eyes were delicately lined with charcoal eye liner. It wasn't that noticeable, but yet it was, even way back where I was sitting. I could see his eyes darting back and forth behind his glasses, searching the crowd.

His eyes finally stopped in the area of my rows, and he smiled softly. It was only then did I realize he was looking at me. I blinked a few times and raised my hand in acknowledgment that I saw him. He nodded lightly, looking back straight ahead and standing up taller, broadening his shoulders back. I chuckled quietly to myself, and the woman next to me looked over at me with wide eyes, as if saying "shut up, or I'll make you shut up." Kinda scared me...

Their opening song began as soon as the audience got completely quiet, and, although I didn't know it or distinguish Adam's voice from anyone else's, they were extremely good. At one point, I literally forgot to breathe for about five seconds.

About five songs went by, all amazing, all getting hundreds of claps, and then the music teacher announced that they would be singing their last song. Adam seemed to tense in his spot, rolling his shoulders back and breathing out deeply. What was so important about that last song? I instantly understood, though, what was so important about that song when the rest of the chorus was shadowed with dark light and only Adam was left in the spotlight. My jaw dropped open and I had to blink a few times. Go, Adam...

There were no opening chords for him, no cue, no nothing. He just started on his own. "_Silent night... Holy night..."_ He sang slowly and softly, although he was still loud enough for everyone to hear, who had all gone completely quiet to listen to him. I was sure my air was caught in my throat way longer than five seconds this time...

"_All is calm, all is bright..."_ I bit my bottom lip and stared intently at him. His voice was beautiful and enchanting and so... captivating. I tucked my legs underneath me so my knees were pressed to my chest, wrapping my arms around the bottom of my legs, leaning forward a little bit.

As Adam continued, I couldn't help but voice my thoughts out loud. "Holy shit... This guy's amazing..." I muttered, a little too loudly. The lady next to me shot me a nasty look, and put a finger to her lips, shushing me. I rolled my eyes at her and turned my attention back to the stage. I couldn't place my finger on it, but... The voice sounded oddly familiar... But he'd never sung to me, how could it be familiar to me in any way? Unless... He had...

A spark went off in my head and my eyes widened as he continued to sing his solo. I gasped, and smiled just a little bit to myself, staring at him. As his solo slowly faded out and the spotlight shined on all of the chorus, his eyes caught mine for just a second, and he smiled sheepishly, knowing I knew and understood. Slowly, he tore his gaze away from me, continuing to sing with the chorus. I shook my head and smirked, placing my head in my chin again. You, sir, Mr. Adam Lambert, are one sneaky, conniving, bitch... And I love that about you...


	15. Wanna Live Underground

**Chapter Fifteen: Wanna live underground…**

**Adam's POV**

"Hey, Adam!" I heard someone call to me from behind. I turned, seeing Drake rushing up to me with a smile on his face. He looked adorable tonight with his naturally curled hair gelled back against his skull, burnt orange skinnies and plaid. I smiled back at him as he came up to me, wrapping his arms around my chest in a tight hug. I laughed, hugging him back before stepping away from him.

"Good job tonight. You sounded fantastic," Drake complimented with a blush gracing his tanned cheeks. I grinned while being conscious of my braces, feeling my own face heat up a little as I looked away from him. Not to sound vain, but I should have been used to people praising me for my talents as a singer. But every time someone said something remotely nice about it, even if it was just a "You did good", I got flustered.

"Thanks, Drake. The snowflakes looked beautiful, by the way." I told him, watching his face go a darker shade of scarlet than before. He smiled shyly, nodding in thanks before someone else pulled him away. I watched him go, the hustle and bustle of parents and friends crowding around the other choristers, praising them and handing them flowers.

I sighed softly, turning around to scan over the crowd. I'd seen Tommy sitting in the audience through the show, but I still hadn't seen him come out of the auditorium. Or maybe he had but he had to leave. But wouldn't he have at least come to say goodbye before running off? Or could he have texted me, or something? I sighed again. Maybe I was just over thinking everything, as usual. Besides, it wasn't my place to freak out over where Tommy was. He and I were just good friends, and nothing more.

I smiled as more people came up to me, saying how wonderful I sounded or that they enjoyed the concert. Despite the fact that I was mentally searching for the blond, I was sincere in my gratitude to those who came to me. Each compliment and each smile made my heart beat faster with excitement. This was what I'd always dreamed about, being a singer and going to the big cities to sing for people and have a good time. Sure, a winter choir concert wasn't anything like the fame I dreamed of, but hey, it was a start.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and I turned, staring into Tommy's bright chocolate brown eyes and I couldn't help the grin that spread itself across my face. Tommy grinned right back, reaching forward to give me a hug. My heart stuttered in my chest as I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close to me.

"You were fantastic tonight," he commented into my chest, and I smiled, feeling my face burn as we pulled away. The part of me that was utterly head over heels for him wanted to keep him in my arms, but I knew that I couldn't. I didn't know if Tommy felt..well.. _anything_ for me in that sense, and, if he didn't, I didn't want to ruin our friendship because I decided to let the barriers of my affection down.

"Thanks Tommy. I'm glad you could make it here," I said, still smiling brightly. The hallway was beginning to thin itself of crowds of people as choristers and their family members left. I could see my parents talking to my choir director, Neil shifting from foot to foot in boredom at their side. I chuckled, shaking my head a little before turning my attention back to Tommy.

"You still coming to my house tonight?" I asked, and Tommy smirked, nodding once before pushing his hair out of his face.

"Yeah. My dad said he didn't care, which is his way of saying it was fine. I, actually, bumped into your parents on the way in, so my bag's already in their car," he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his skinny jeans. I smiled slightly, nodding once as we began to walk over to where my parents stood, waiting for us.

"Also, who painted all those snowflakes? They were gorgeous," Tommy asked, glancing up at me from behind the fringe of his hair. I chuckled, licking at my freckled lips.

"Drake, he's a friend of mine. Artist, you know? He's got a good future ahead of him if he stays with it, and I think he will," I explained, thinking about some of the other paintings and sculptures I'd seen in the art rooms that Drake had done. He had an amazing future ahead of him. Between having an eye for detail as well as a vivid imagination, he could— and would— go far.

"Awesome. I bumped into him before the show started. He pointed out that the best snowflake was in the back corner, right by your head." Tommy snorted and I laughed, slipping my hands into the pockets of my pants. "Fitting, though, I guess. It was like a giant, glittery crown behind your hair," Tommy joked and I pulled a hand from my pocket, shoving him back a few steps.

"Oh, come off it." I said, grinning ear to ear at him as he came back to my side, bumping into my shoulder with his. More than my crush for Tommy, this was what I loved most. Being able to be completely comfortable around him and just joke about nothing at all. It was peaceful and comforting.

"I'm _just _saying, maybe if she wasn't such a prude she'd be able to see just how much of a great guy he could've been for her." I argued, motioning to the rolling end credits of _Labyrinth_. My laptop was sitting on a small table facing my bed, Tommy and I laying side by side on our stomachs. The blond rolled his eyes, shaking his head and smiling slightly.

"Yet you fail to remember that Bowie's character is, like, thirteen _hundred_ years older than Connolly's character? Not _only _is that considered pedophilia, but he stole her baby brother away!" Tommy retorted, rolling onto his back and tucking his arms under his head, using them as a sort of pillow.

We'd been up in my room since coming back to my house from concert, and my mother had been gracious enough to order us a pizza and bring it up to my room for Tommy and I to share. There was a two-liter of Coca Cola sitting on the floor at the foot of my bed, well within arm's reach for either of us, the pizza box mostly empty, yet, neglected on the floor next to the soda bottle.

"When was it ever mentioned that Bowie was thirteen hundred years older than her? I mean, yeah, he's a mystical motherfucker, but where does it say that? And, not to mention, she _wished_ her baby brother away. He was only complying with that wish, so he's not to blame!" I said, sitting up a little more before readjusting to sit cross legged on my bed, staring down at Tommy as music played with the near-ending credits.

Tommy turned his head, facing me with a sly smile, "Dude, _everyone_ knows that Bowie plays a thirteen hundred year old King. Even people who've never seen the movie know it. And regardless of whether or not she wished her bro away, he still came to take him away.

"And, to add to Bowie's pedo-ness, what's with all the 'It's only forever, not long at all' crap? I mean, don't get me wrong, in any other context but _this_ movie, I'd appreciate the music more. But he's singing about spending eternity with a fifteen year old girl." Tommy retorted, sitting up himself to look over at me, his eyes hard and playful as he tried to prove his point that the Goblin King had been wrong in taking Sarah's brother and then wanting to seduce her to rule with him.

I raised an eyebrow at him, crossing my arms over my chest as I stared at Tommy. He mimicked my movements, raising both of his eyebrows at me and I couldn't stop the laugh that fell from my lips. I unfolded my arms, reaching out to gently smack his arm as my chuckles faded, "Get over yourself, Thomas, Bowie's not a pedo." I said.

Tommy whined softly when I hit him, mocking a look of pain as he rubbed his arm. But I could see the mischief in his eye when he looked back up at me, shifting on the bed so that he was resting on his knees, "Yeah, sure, Adam. The day Bowie ceases to be a pedo in this movie is the day that this fails to work—" I frowned as he leaped forward, digging his fingers into my sides. I realized, too late, that he was beginning to mercilessly tickle me, and in one of my most sensitive spots.

I bucked, falling onto my back with my head dangling over the edge of my bed as Tommy tickled my sides, his fingers flying like they had wings. I laughed, choking on air as I tried to push Tommy off of me. But he seemed to move, sitting mostly on my thighs while pining my hands down with his knees as he tickled up and down my ribs, trailing his fingers against my neck— another sensitive spot.

"T-T-Tom—Tommy— hahah! Tommy, Tommy st-stop! Stop!" I begged, pulling my hands free from his knees and reaching up to push him off. Tommy yelped falling back before grabbing my hands, pulling me up into a brief sitting position before falling forward. I squealed, tugging my hands out of his grasp to catch my fall. My arms landed on either side of his head, my legs straddling his hips as I stared down at him, our faces inches apart.

Tommy's eyes were wide, his mouth open in mid breath as we kept staring at each other before I finally pushed myself away from him, sitting down with my legs crossed and my hands in my lap. Tommy slowly sat up, not meeting my eyes as he fixed his hair a little bit.

"Sorry," I muttered softly, looking away from him, feeling the embarrassment washing over my cheeks as I swallowed the lump in the back of my throat. In my peripheral, I saw Tommy lift his head as he looked over at me before looking away again, shaking his head.

"N-no, it was my bad…" He said, trailing off a little bit. I licked my lips, looking back over at him as he glanced my direction, our eyes meeting for a moment before we looked away again. Tommy chuckled nervously, running fingers through his hair before speaking again, "Is it always like this for you?" He asked, and I frowned.

"What do you mean?" I pondered, giving myself enough of a kick in the ass to realize that there was no shame in looking at him once in a while.

"Is it… _Always_ awkward for you? I— I mean, I-I'm sure I'm not the first guy you've been around and… Oh, God, what am I saying..?" Tommy mumbled, burying his face in his hands for a moment. I blinked, smiling warmly despite the fact that he couldn't see it. I reached forward, taking one of his wrists in my hand and pulling it away to look at his face.

"Hey, it's okay… And.. sometimes, yeah. But it's fine. I mean, as long as you're, like, not uncomfortable or anything around me then whatever, it's fine. But…" I shrugged, trailing off without really finishing any coherent kind of a sentence. Tommy nodded once, smiling slightly before swallowing, licking his lips as I let go of his wrist.

An weird silence fell over us as the music faded from my computer. I didn't really look at Tommy and Tommy didn't really look at me. We looked at everything but each other until Tommy stared blankly over towards my computer, speaking so softly that I wasn't even sure if he'd said anything at all, at first, "I know it was you. I know you know, too."

I turned my focus to him, raising an eyebrow in his direction before he spoke again. "I mean… That day where I came to school, sick.. I know it was you." I swallowed the lump in my throat, feeling the heat washing over my face.

"Yeah.. Yeah, it was." I admitted. He didn't have to mention anything specific to get me to understand what he was trying to say.

"Why did you lie, then?" I looked away, swallowing again.

"Because I didn't.. I didn't want you thinking I was some kind of weirdo or a freak. I mean, think about it Tommy, I sang a..rather passionate song.." I trailed off, feeling weird and flustered again.

"Hey, hey, it's cool.." Tommy said with a smile. "It's cool, man. It doesn't bother me," I looked up at him, feeling a smile pulling at my lips. Oh, Tommy… You're too much.


	16. Help Me Make Sense

**Chapter Sixteen: Help Me Make Sense of What I Don't Understand  
Tommy's POV**

His legs were on either side of me, straddling my hips as he fell even more forward than he already had, his palms laying flat against mine, landing near my head that was close to hanging off the side of the bed as we both continued to giggle like buffoons. Adam's mouth was wide open as he laughed, the metal from his braces shining from the overhead light, his cerulean blue eyes slightly squinted and the frame of his glasses casting a shadow on his skin.

As he leaned even more forward, I realized that our noses were inches from brushing each others, and he realized it, too, for he suddenly seized chuckling to stare down into my eyes and then at our hands.

I could feel his breath gliding over my face and into my mouth, tasting of mint. My heart was thrashing in my chest and all I could think about was how beautiful he looked when he was so bashful. It was as if he'd never been this close to another man's face before. Maybe he hadn't... I blinked a few times, my lips slightly parted in mid breath. I could hear his breath shaking softly inside his own gaping mouth, which was pulled downwards into a frown.

His eyebrows were pulled together above his eyes, looking as if he was studying me or reminiscing. For a moment, his blue orbs clouded over with lust before turning into embarrassment, and he pushed himself off of me, climbing off of my legs and sitting on the edge of the bed with his legs crossed together, Indian style. "Sorry," he muttered softly, looking away from me as I sat up. I shook my head and looked down at my lap.

"N-no, it was my bad…" I said, trailing off a bit, rubbing the back of my neck with my hand. The rest of our conversation after that was filled with complete awkwardness, and I didn't even think twice about what I was saying before it spewed out of my mouth. I'd, somehow, even managed to slip that I knew that he was the one singing to me when I came to school hungover, back in December.

December... That was so long ago, but it really wasn't. It was only a month ago, but it felt like an eternity since Adam sang to me in that room. I'd known him since mid-November, and, if you asked me back then how I felt about moving, I would've told you it was the worst thing that could've happened in my life. Now? Now, I wouldn't go back to Chicago for the world.

Eventually, our awkward conversation turned back into a normal one, and I'd taken out my guitar to show off a bit. It was, possibly, the only thing I could do right, why not flaunt it? Adam's mouth turned upwards in amusement as I plucked the strings to make sure they were still in tune, which they were. I looked up at him, pluck in fingers, my eyebrows pulled together.

"What the hell should I play?" I muttered, pouting a little at him. He chuckled nervously and ran a hand through his inky locks, licking at his lips. Poor thing. He was probably still flustered about being on top of me... Ha, that sounded more sexual than I intended. Whoops.

He sighed, slumping his shoulders some before looking up at me, an evil smirk playing on his lips. "How about 'Whole Lotta Love'?" He said in a husky voice, his smirk deepening and all signs of embarrassment suddenly vanishing and some sort of deviant Adam taking hold of the wheel. I chuckled and nodded, licking my lips a little as I tried to remember the chords for it.

As my fingers began strumming, I became completely lost in my music. It would be unusual if that _didn't_ happen. I could feel Adam's eyes on my fingers, and I could hear him beginning to hum. When it actually came time for lyrics, I looked up at Adam, nodding to him. At first, he seemed reluctant to sing, mumbling small parts of the song when I could, clearly, tell that he knew every single word to the song. So what do I do to give him encouragement?

"_You been learnin', baby, I been learnin',_" I was sure I was singing out of key, cause I couldn't sing even if a gun was pointed to my head, but I didn't care. I was having fun. Adam stared, wide eyed, at me for a moment before chuckling. I smirked as I continued to play, "What? Think you can do better? Come on, tough guy," I growled at him, playing a little bit louder than before. "_All them good times, baby, baby, I been yearnin'._" I must have been ruining the song, because Adam shook his head and scrunched his whole face up, chuckling. And then, finally, he opened his mouth.

"_Way, way down inside,_" as soon as he began to sing, I felt a slight pressure in my jeans and I mentally kicked myself. What the fuck... I shouldn't be getting hard simply because of his edgy voice... Not even the original Zeppelin song did that to me, and that was some pretty intense stuff, sure to get any woman hard (given they didn't even have cocks).

"_Honey, you_ need_ it_," he practically growled, and I felt a small twitch under my zipper. Okay, really, now? Was that necessary? I'm sure my face looked like I'd just eaten a sour apple, with pursed lips and eyebrows scrunched together. Thank God Adam was focused on my guitar playing rather than my face; he probably would have thought I was scrunching up because I didn't like his voice. Well, apparently, my dick likes his voice even more than I do.

"_I'm gonna give you my love... I'm gonna give you my love!_" At those words, my fingers automatically stopped in their place and I had to close my eyes, breathing in deeply through my nose to calm down the woody that I was desperately trying to hide with my guitar. He only sang three lines and I felt like I was about to explode... When I opened my eyes, Adam was staring at me with a concerned yet amused look on his face, a small smile playing at his freckly lips.

"Dude... That was fucking amazing." I finally commented, breathless. Adam flushed to the color of a raspberry and looked away from me, avoiding my gaze. Thank fuck he stopped singing. Thank fuck that I stopped playing. Thank fuck my hard on was calming some, even if slightly, on its own...

"How bout you, with your playing? That was insane." I felt heat spread to my own cheeks a little bit and I lowered my head, looking down at my precious guitar. If there was one thing in this world that I treasured more than anything else, it was my guitar and my ability to play it. I don't know what my life would have been like without the six-stringed beauty... Shut the fuck up, playing guitar is an art.

My shoulders slumped some, and I quirked a smile. "It's really not that hard," I said, subconsciously plucking at the strings. Speaking of hard... I really hoped that Adam was staring at my fingers and not at the pulsing heat underneath my jeans... That'd seriously be one hell of an awkward situation. I cleared my throat and looked back up at him, "Have you ever tried playing?" I asked, attempting to distract myself.

He shook his head, laughing, as if even the idea was completely idiotic and unheard of. I smirked and extended my arms towards him, making sure his eyes were on the guitar and not elsewhere. He blinked a few times and tilted his head to the side a little, looking like a very confused, lost puppy. And it looked adorable...

I had yet to decide how I felt about him. I knew that he was the greatest friend I'd ever had, that was for sure. I never had any true friends in Chicago. Everybody was either pissed off at me for having sex with their girlfriends, pissed off at me cause I was a cocky prick, or they were jealous because every girl wanted me. Yeah, I'm definitely not vane, but it was true; some even admitted it straight to my face with stuttering words and half unbuttoned shirts that made their boobs hang out all over the place. I could never understand girls.

He licked at his lips and cautiously took the guitar, like he was scared that it would shatter into millions of tiny shards of wood once he touched it. I laughed and pushed it closer to him still until his hands completely wrapped around the neck and base of the guitar. He gasped softly at the change of weight in his hands, I guessed. It was the same thing I did when my uncle shoved it into my hands. I felt like I was on top of the world, with such a powerful and soulful instrument in my hands for the first time.

I smiled at him, "Play a G." I watched as his face went from minor confusion to almost ghost white. He looked ashamed and like he didn't want to disappoint me or make a fool of himself.

"Tommy, I-I've never picked a guitar up in my life-" he began with a quivering voice, but I cut him off with a deep, throaty chuckle.

"Just go with your gut feeling," I told him. It was the first thing Uncle Joe told me to do, and I nearly tore my hair out trying to figure it out for half an hour, because Joe was the type of guy that always played tricks with people's minds, so, knowing this, I naturally went for the harder notes, closer to the bottom of the neck and the last strings. Finally, when I gave up on the hard notes and played a simple G, he patted me on the shoulder and said 'You got it, Tommy Joe.' I wanted to kill him for doing that to me, but it seemed to pay off in the end.

He bit his lip and staring hard at the strings. I didn't have the heart to tell him he was holding the guitar the wrong way. His fingers swept over the strings, making small whispers of noises, before he plucked the third string from the top. Well, it should have been the fourth, but, coincidentally, he played the right string. He looked back at me with pursed lips and worry set deep into his forehead before I burst out into giggles.

He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment before opening them, "I told you, I can't play the guitar!" He exclaimed, straightening out of his bent position over the guitar. I shook my head and laughed again before clearing my throat, calming myself.

"Obviously not. You played the right string, though, which is an amazing feat in and of itself." All signs of anxiety depicted from his face, and he now looked more shocked than anything. "Are you a righty or lefty?" I continued, trying not to laugh again.

"Uh, righty-" he was going to continue, but I took the guitar from his hands before he could and turned it the other way, so the headstock was to the left of him. I took his left hand and placed it on the guitar, curling his index finger on the third fret of the e string, his middle finger on the first fret of the A string, and his ring finger on the second fret of the E string. "Make believe you're holding something round. Fingers always have to be round." I explained, taking his other hand and placing it at the e string, stroking his fingertips over all of the strings and making a beautiful sound.

I smiled down at out hands, "G chord," I whispered, biting on my lower lip. I couldn't help the tingles that ran through my fingers at the small skin contact. I looked up at his face to see that he was staring at our hands, too, his face brighter than any cherry I'd ever seen. He cleared his throat and pulled his hands free of mine, rubbing the back of his neck while holding the guitar with his other. I blinked a few times, staring at him before I understood.

I let out a throaty laugh and took his hand in mine, despite his efforts to pull away from me. "Adam, just because you're gay doesn't mean that there's zero percent touching. It's like you're afraid a teacher from third grade will come in and yell 'Keep your hands to yourself!'" I mimicked my own third grade teacher with the deep voice that sometimes haunted me to this day; he was, possibly, the biggest prude in the world. Even the other teachers would tell him to calm his balls. Well... Not in those words, but you get the gist. "Chill, man. It's not a problem." I shrugged and smiled at him. In fact, it was quite the opposite... He chuckled and shook his head, licking his lips before speaking.

"So, what? Are you my fag stag?" He asked, grinning at me. I chuckled and shrugged again.

"I guess I am." I answered with a smile. His face dropped a little bit and he licked his lips, looking away from me and pulling his hands free again. My entire face seemed to scrunch up in response. Had I said something that was wrong? It was almost as if he was expecting to deny it, like I wasn't a fag _stag_, but a-

My thoughts were cut short when my phone began buzzing in my pocket. I flinched a little bit at the snap-back to reality and reached into my pocket, fishing out my phone to see Mia's name in big, black letters. I flashed Adam an apologetic look and stood from the bed, facing the wall and flipping my phone open. I sighed and ran a hand through my bangs before saying anything, "Hey, babe."

"Well, hello there," she replied in quite a girly voice. I chuckled lightly and wrapped my free arm around my torso, tucking it neatly under my bending arm. "What have you been up to? You haven't called in a while." I dug at my nail polish and bit on my bottom lip.

"Been kinda busy... Y'know, hanging out with friends and playing and stuff..." I mumbled, looking over my shoulder at Adam. He was staring down at his hands in his lap, gnawing on his lip. Fuck, that's adorable...

"Oh? And have we made any new friends, Mr. Ratliff?" She giggled and I faked a small laugh before blushing.

"No... Just with Adam a lot," I half whispered into the receiver. A sigh and the blowing of raspberries filled my ear.

"Again?" She muttered, a pang of anger lacing her tone. A frown pulled at the edges of my mouth. What kind of attitude was that? Was she... Jealous?

"Yes, again." I couldn't control the hiss underlying my own tone. "I gotta go, I'll call you soon," I continued before harshly snapping the phone shut and shoving it back into my jeans. I turned back towards Adam to see him staring at me with wide eyes and a slightly dropped jaw. "What?" I asked, sitting back down on the bed.

He blinked a few times and snapped his mouth closed before opening it again, "You have a _girlfriend_?" His eyes squinted up a little bit, and the side of his mouth wrinkled. Heat rushed across my face.

"Yeah. Back in Chicago. Her name's Mia and... She's pretty amazing," the way I said the last part made it sound genuine, like I truly meant it, but my intentions were more like 'And she's a complete bitch that doesn't like you.' Guess I didn't reach that aim. He nodded and laced his fingers together in front of him, chipping his nail polish off.

It was silent for a long time after that. He was in his own world, I was in my own world, and nothing around us mattered. We were in each other presence; that's all that mattered. While I didn't know what was lingering in his head, I knew what was in mine. I wanted to unlace his fingers from each other and take his hand in mine again. I wanted to lean over and press myself against him and never let go. I wanted to make him mine...

Okay, so I guess it's pretty clear how I feel about him now.

I wanted to do all these things, I really did. But at the same time, my in the back of my mind, my conscience was yelling at me, telling me that I shouldn't want this. That he was just a friend and nothing more, and shouldn't be anything more. But... Why? Why _shouldn't_ I want these things? Just because he's a guy and I'm a guy? My conscience is quite stupid.

"It's four in the morning..." he finally whispered. I flinched a little and stared at the clock on his nightstand. Fuck... Not even _I_ go that late. I usually crash around one, too tired to keep my head up. My eyes suddenly felt very droopy and my mouth dropped open in a yawn. I heard Adam's laughter as my long yawn ended, and I looked up at him, half dazed. Without knowing what we were laughing about, I began giggling with him.

"What? Am I ugly when I yawn?" I asked, my voice raspy. I didn't realize how tired I was until he pointed out what time it was. He smiled and shook his head.

"Just the opposite. Your tongue practically falls out of your mouth and you look like a little kitten," he explained. A pout formed on my lips and I made my eyes wider.

"That's not vewy nice." I brought my hand up and pawed at the air, making small meowing noises. He grinned and pawed back at me. Oh, what children, we are. I got off the bed again and stretched, feeling pops in my back before bending down and grabbing my flannel pants and an old Korn shirt from my bag. Without saying a word to him, I walked into the bathroom and changed, coming out a few minutes later and collapsing on the bed next to him, resting my head in his lap, closing my eyes and letting a sigh pass my lips.

When I opened my eyes, his beautiful face came into view and I smiled softly. "Hi," I muttered. He blushed and looked away from me, but I continued looking at his eyes. Those eyes... They could kill someone. Icy blue in the center, brimmed with a darker blue on the edges, not to mention how well his eyeliner complimented him.

I was going to say something to him. I didn't know what, though. Something along the lines of 'Oh, yeah, I have a girlfriend, but she doesn't mean anything to me because I'm irresistibly in love with you,' but when I opened my mouth to speak, all that came out was:

"Sing me a song."

... Way to go, Tommy.

He beamed at me, going into deep thought for a second and then letting out beautiful sounds, "_There's a calm surrender to the rush of day, when the heat of the rolling world can be turned away_." Had Adam not started to sing this song, I would have completely forgotten that Elton ever existed, and that would have been embarrassing. But just the way he treated the words with such kindness made my heart ooze, and my eyes began closing again.

When I was a kid, I would always have a hard time falling asleep. My mother would come into my room, sing me lullabies for five minutes, and I'd be out faster than a light bug can spark it's lighting. It was my weakness; I was a sucker for good songs and a great talent.

"_An enchanted moment, and it sees me through. It's enough for this restless warrior just to be with you. And can you feel the love tonight?_" Oh, yes, I very much can. "_It is where we are. It's enough for this wide-eyed wanderer, that we got this far._" My eyes already felt glued shut, and I wouldn't be able to open them if I even wanted to.

"_And can you feel the love tonight, how it's laid to rest? It's enough to make kings and vagabonds believe the very best..._" I couldn't even hear him anymore. A light snore was making it's way from my chest, and my head was lolling against Adam's knee. I guess that, after realizing that I'd fallen asleep, he ended the song short, not bothering with finishing it. He tried to call my name, but I couldn't even respond to him, I was so far gone.

Warm, strong hands lifted my head from a hard knee and placed it, instead, on the soft confines of the bed. There was soft tip toeing across the room before everything went dark around me, and the same tip toeing made it's way back towards me. The bed shifted lightly underneath me, and hot breath appeared on my cheek, followed by... A kiss...?

His lips were only against mine for less than half a second, but it was enough. "Good night, Tommy," he whispered.

I couldn't help the soft smile that pulled at my lips in the darkness.


	17. Baby, Don't You Know

**Chapter Seventeen: Baby, Don't You Know…**

**Adam's POV**

Tommy had a girlfriend.

Tommy had a girlfriend. From Chicago.

Tommy Joe Ratliff, the one boy I'd developed the world's largest, gayest crush on, had a _girlfriend_, from _Chicago_, whom he seemed pretty… pretty damn close to. A girl who probably had long, luscious hair, curves to die for, great boobs and a wonderful personality. A girl who probably knew all of Tommy's quirks and secrets and what made him happy and what made him smile and what could cheer him up whenever he was sad. A girl who could turn heads but was, no doubt, utterly faithful to him considering they were keeping their relationship despite being hundreds of miles apart…

A girl who was probably perfect in Tommy's eyes… A girl who wasn't… me. A fag. A queer. A stupid theatre nut and chorister who just happened to be head over heels for the hot rod from Illinois. The hot rod who had a fucking girlfriend.

God, how could I have been so _stupid_? To have been so unbelievably blind to everything. How could I have thought that Tommy would have _any_ interest in me when he was already dating someone else? How would someone like Tommy—Tommy, fuck!—have any interest in someone like me? A fucking… cock-loving loser…

A miserable sigh escaped my lips as I shut my locker, spinning the dial to lock it before turning to walk down the hall. School had only just started and I felt utterly exhausted and in need of a nap. My head was too busy spinning in circles for me to try to concentrate, and honestly it was a miracle I was able to open my locker in the first place. How would I be able to learn anything?

God, I'm pathetic.

'_Get a hold of yourself, Lambert, it's not like this is the first time you've crushed on a straight boy, now get over yourself. For crying out loud…_' I thought to myself. I had a point, but for some reason this just felt… different. Different in a good way and a bad way. All the other boys I'd ever crushed on were the types that I knew I would never have a chance with. Tommy was different. I felt like… like maybe…

'_Obviously not._'

Grumbling softly to myself, I made my way to English, pushing through the crowds of obnoxious teenagers and football players before squeezing my way into the classroom itself. I wasn't sure why people felt the need to crowd hallways and doorways but they did, and it irritated the hell out of me every time I had to force my way through a group of people. Most of the times it was annoying freshman or groups of preps. Either way, they were all annoying.

Taking my seat, I pulled out a journal and a pen, but I didn't flip it open. Not yet. I bit down on my bottom lip, wondering why I had stopped myself before someone's bag slammed into my shoulder. I growled softly, palming my hand against the spot. When I looked up and saw one of the football players who had a wonderful habit of being a dickwad towards me, I realized why I'd hesitated so suddenly.

God, this day just _couldn't_ get any better, could it?

"What's the matter, faggot? Upset your little boy toy isn't here?" He sneered. I glared and turned away from him, reaching into my bag to grab my copy of _Wicked_. I'd just set it down on my table when his shadow loomed over me, and his massive hand snatched the book away.

"Hey! Give that back!" I snarled, standing from my seat, reaching for it. But he was a good head and a half taller than I was—and I was rather tall to begin with—and maybe one hundred and fifty pounds heavier. Just looking at him and seeing how far away my book was as he held it in the air, I knew I didn't have a chance at fighting this motherfucker.

"Why, do you like reading books about fairies and witches, queer? Huh? Do you like little fantasy tales?" He laughed, palming a hand onto my chest and shoving me away before throwing my book onto the floor. I watched as the cover flew open and pages fluttered before it fell, pages bent and crinkled, at my feet. "Why don't you fucking grow a pair and learn to be a real fucking man?"

"And why don't you grow a goddamn brain, get your balls out of your ass and leave him the fuck alone?" Tommy's voice sounded from my side and I turned to see the blond there, my book in his hands, but his eyes were on the football player.

"Who are you to tell me what to do, fag?" Tommy rolled his eyes.

"Is that the only word you know? I could think of a dozen different ways to call you a closeted, insecure ass-kissing, cock-sucking, cunt-fearing, steroid-using prick that can send you crying home to mommy like the little baby you are. Now shut the fuck up and sit the fuck down."

The room was silent, and I was sure everyone was incredibly grateful that the teacher wasn't present just yet. I watched in amazement as the jock's face reddened, but he complied and sat down in his seat, turning away from myself and Tommy. I turned my attention to the blond with wide eyes as he handed me my book.

"What?" He asked, and I shook my head, going back to my seat. Tommy sighed softly from behind me, and I looked up to see him sitting on the edge of my desk.

"What do you want, Tommy?" I asked, pushing my journal and book out of the way of him sitting on them. Tommy looked down at his hands, his face becoming a little withdrawn and serious.

"I want to know why you haven't talked to me. Ever since that sleepover after the concert, you haven't said a word to me. It's been, like, three weeks, bro. What's going on?" He muttered. I didn't look at him, and I didn't speak for the longest time. Why didn't I talk to him? What was I supposed to say? Sorry for not speaking to you, I just have this monstrous crush on you and now you've told me you've got a girlfriend. How are you? I'm fucking swell.

"I've been busy," I lied, flipping the pages of my book with the tip of my thumb. Tommy huffed softly, shifting to look down at me.

"Bullshit. How can you be busy during the entire month of January? Nothing goes on in January." He snipped and I rolled my eyes.

"I just have been, okay? So butt out of it." I replied, pushing his hip to get him off my desk. Tommy sighed heavily, grabbing his backpack before reaching into it, fishing around. I didn't look at him. I didn't want to. I knew if I did I'd spill everything and I really didn't want to do that in the middle of a classroom full of people.

After a moment, Tommy pulled out a box that was wrapped in blue paper with a silver bow on it, and he set it on my desk. "I got this for you… for your birthday. But you're not allowed to open it until tonight at your party." He said, his voice clipped and short as he took his seat. I stared down at it for a long while, feeling like an asshole for forgetting my own birthday, as well as for being so rude to Tommy, who still had me in his thoughts even though I ignored him.

Party balloons, streamers, a banner that read "Happy Birthday Adam" and a table full of food was what greeted me when I came home from shopping with my mom after school. There were at least a dozen people there, too. My parents, of course, my little brother, my grandparents, several of my theatre friends, choir friends, a couple of my brother's friends—to keep him occupied—and Tommy and Drake. They all had smiles on their faces as they shouted the words that the banner had.

I smiled softly at all of them, feeling embarrassed as I was pulled into the arms of several of my friends. Sure, I knew that there was going to be a party tonight for my birthday, but I hadn't expected so many people to show up. And how did my parents know so many of my friends from theatre and choir? I never brought anyone home to hang out with—Tommy being the exception—and I never really talked about anyone unless I had some kind of a story to tell them, and that didn't happen very often.

So to see everyone was a bit of a shock. But I think the two people I was happiest to see were Tommy and Drake. Drake and I had gotten pretty close since the concert, since he was on stage crew for theatre, helping paint and build all of the props and sets for our musical due for production in the spring. Tommy, of course, because he was my best friend…

I looked around at everyone, smiling and thanking them for everything before I felt arms loop around my neck. Drake was hugging me tightly and I laughed a little, hugging him back. "Hey, Drake, thanks for making it!" I said and he pulled away, beaming at me.

"I wouldn't miss your birthday for the world, Adam. You should know that," I blushed a little and shrugged as he handed me a neatly wrapped box. "Happy birthday."

"You didn't have to.." I trailed off, but Drake rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Yes I did. It's not every day you turn seventeen. Now shut up and open it." I sighed and smiled, gently peeling the tape away from the paper before opening it slowly. Inside was a white box about the size of my palm. Popping the lid, I peered inside to see a gift card for iTunes as well as a treble clef pendant on a silver chain. My smiled widened as I looked up at Drake.

"It's beautiful, thank you!" Drake beamed at me, taking the pendant from the box before clasping it around my neck.

"I know how much music means to you, and I figured this was just too perfect to pass up." I chuckled softly, giving him another hug before pulling away. Setting the box and paper aside, I reached into my backpack, which was sitting on the floor by the table, to retrieve Tommy's gift. I'd kept my promise in not opening it, but since Drake made me open his, I figured it was only fair that I open Tommy's as well.

The blond came to my side as I peeled the paper open. Inside was an identical white box, but the weight was different. Opening the lid, I saw a handmade hemp bracelet, the ones that are made with square knots and beads. The cords were black and white, and the beads look like they were made of wood and painted to resemble different Egyptian hieroglyphics. In the center was a large bead painted with the Eye of Horus.

"Tommy," I gasped, gently trailing my fingers along it. "This is… I can't even…"

"Your parents told me you really, really like Egypt, and I saw the beads at a craft store. You're lucky my sister knows how to make friendship bracelets, otherwise I probably would just given you the bag of beads," he told me with a laugh and a smile.

"You made this for me?" I asked, staring hard at him. Tommy's face reddened a little and he nodded once.

"Yeah. Took me a while, but I wanted to make sure I did it right, you know?" I nodded slowly, smiling as I took the bracelet into hand. It was big enough for me to slip my hand through, and it hung loose around my wrist. I turned to Tommy and hugged him tight, relishing in the feel of his arms looping around my waist, giving me an affectionate squeeze.

"Thank you, Tommy. This means a lot to me."

"Oh, come off it, it's just a bracelet," he teased and I shook my head as we pulled away.

"I meant being here. I'm sorry I've been.. distant, lately. I've just had a lot on my mind." I told him. It wasn't a lie. I did have a lot. Too much sometimes for me to handle, but Tommy just waved me off and grinned like a fool at me.

"Don't worry about it, Adam. It's fine. Just promise me you won't continue to ignore me?" He said with a pleading pout and I rolled my eyes.

"Fine, fine," I said, kissing his cheek.


End file.
